In Plain Sight
by Kathy Rose
Summary: Enterprise is taking a witness to an important trial on Earth. Will they be able to keep the witness safe? And more important, will certain crewmembers be able to survive being around the witness?
1. Chapter 1

Title: In Plain Sight

Author: Kathy Rose

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to someone else, etc., etc., etc. I'm not making any money, I'm just having fun with the characters. Wish I'd thought of them first.

Summary: Enterprise must take a witness to testify at a trial. Will an assassin strike before they get there? Even more important, will certain crewmembers survive the witness being on board?

CHAPTER 1

Travis leaned closer to his dining companion in the mess hall. "Rumor has it we're going back to Earth," he said in a hushed voice.

Hoshi, using her fork to slice a bite-sized piece of the lasagna on her plate, looked at Travis with amusement. Instead of answering, she raised the fork, put the lasagna in her mouth, and started eating.

"Come on, Hoshi," he wheedled. "Surely you know something."

She swallowed and took a sip of iced tea, eyeing the helmsman the whole time. Then she calmly took another bite of her dinner.

"Hoshi! You're the comm officer! You know everything."

Dabbing daintily at her mouth with her napkin, Hoshi relented. "Yes, we're going back to Earth," she said.

His eyes glittering with excitement, Travis crowed, "I knew it!"

Seeing the attention of some of the other diners focus on them, Hoshi quickly shushed him. "It's not for common knowledge until the captain makes an announcement." Looking around to make sure no one was still listening, she added in a low voice, "And we've got a stop to make first. We're picking up a new crew member."

* * *

Later that day, Hoshi was at the airlock along with Jon and Malcolm as a private vessel docked with Enterprise. Hoshi was anxious to meet the person who was going to blow the lid off a far-reaching scheme involving fraud, blackmail and possibly several murders. 

The captain had decided that Hoshi would be the primary liaison for the witness during the trip back to Earth. Malcolm was there for security reasons. No one else on board other than T'Pol, who was on the bridge during the docking procedure, would know the true identity of their passenger.

Hoshi and Malcolm had attended a strategy session with the captain and the first officer the day before. Right off the bat they'd agreed that taking on a civilian would arouse the curiosity of the crew. Starfleet wasn't in business to be a ferry service. So they'd come up with the story that she was in Starfleet and was being assigned to Enterprise.

"There's got to be a reason for her showing up here," Jon had said. "Under usual circumstances, new crewmen don't come aboard until we're at Earth or another Starfleet vessel is sent to meet us."

"Perhaps she could be a specialist of some sort," T'Pol had suggested. "That could necessitate the use of a private vessel such as the one we will be meeting."

"That might work," Jon had said, "and if it's an esoteric enough specialty, no one on board will have the expertise to know better."

"That would imply she has knowledge of an esoteric field of study," T'Pol had said. "Does she?"

Archer had glanced at Hoshi, who had also studied the background information sent by Starfleet on their passenger, and they both had shaken their heads.

"Perhaps," Hoshi had ventured, "she could be assigned to security. We could say she's an expert developing a new type of weapon and needs to do some field work. That way, it would be easier for Malcolm to protect her since she'd have a valid reason for being with him."

Hoshi had been rather proud of her idea and had been sure it would be met with approval, and it had been -- by the captain and T'Pol. Malcolm hadn't been as enthused. But in the end, he'd agreed it would be easier to carry off the ruse if their passenger was in his department where he could keep an eye on her. Not only that, being in the armory would help to keep her away from prying eyes and questions.

The hiss as the airlock door opened brought Hoshi back to the present. Only one person was inside. A mousy-looking woman of middle age and medium height with shoulder-length brown hair was standing there. The woman was tense, to judge by the way she was gripping the strap to her duffle bag, but Hoshi thought that was understandable. Her life was in danger until she testified.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Bloom," Jon said, extending his hand to her. "I'm Captain Archer."

The woman went to shake his hand and dropped her duffle bag on his foot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said, making a grab for the offending duffle bag and bumping into Jon as he also reached for it. "Sorry!" she murmured again.

Hoshi bit the inside of her cheek as she watched a blush creep up the captain's face, but it was nothing compared to the brilliant red now suffusing the face of their passenger.

Jon finally managed to take charge of the duffle bag. Straightening, he gave Miss Bloom an awkward smile and turned to indicate the waiting officers.

"This is Ensign Sato," he said. "She'll be your contact on board. You'll be sharing her cabin. If there's anything you need, just let her know."

Hoshi gave her a reassuring smile, and saw a tremulous smile cross the woman's face in response.

Handing the duffle bag to Malcolm, the captain continued, "And this is Lieutenant Reed. He's in charge of security on Enterprise. In fact, you'll be working with him."

"Ma'am," Malcolm said with a curt bob of his head in greeting.

Miss Bloom looked at Malcolm in confusion. "Working...with him?" she said, the last word coming out in a squeak.

"Ensign Sato will explain it to you," Jon said hastily. "It would probably be best to go to your quarters and get changed before any of the crew sees you."

Miss Bloom swallowed nervously as her confusion mounted. "Changed?"

Hoshi took pity on the poor woman. "Come on," she said. "I'll show you to our quarters and then we'll tell you what we've got planned."

She led Miss Bloom down the corridor to the turbolift, Malcolm trailing them with the duffle bag. None of them heard Jon sigh in relief that the stilted meeting was over.

* * *

"So you see, I really had no choice in the matter," Miss Bloom was saying as she unpacked her duffle bag. "They were probably going to kill me anyway. I know too much, and they just can't take the chance. So I had to leave. You wouldn't believe how hard it was to arrange transport from Thiera, but I managed it. I used to make travel arrangements for the executives, so I had a good idea who to contact for a trip. The agency is usually very discreet. I'm sure they won't tell anyone. Well, I hope they don't talk about it." 

Hoshi had to move aside as Miss Bloom began hanging clothes in the closet. Another bunk had been moved in, making for rather cramped quarters. But it wasn't the lack of space that was bothering Hoshi, despite her for-the-moment quiescent claustrophobia.

"I wish I'd never stayed late that evening," Miss Bloom continued. "If I hadn't been working late and been so tired, I wouldn't have accidentally gotten into that file. It was a mistake that I opened it. There was no reason for me to even see it, but because I was tired, I hit the wrong key and up it popped on my screen."

No, it was the constant chattering that was going to drive her insane, Hoshi realized as her eyes began to glaze over. Did the woman ever stop to take a breath?

"And once it was opened, it was just like Pandora's box. All the names, all the payoffs..." Miss Bloom finished hanging her clothes and turned to face Hoshi. "And I have what is sometimes called a photographic memory. It's not like I can forget what I saw in that file."

Hoshi gave her a small smile and opened her mouth to speak, but Miss Bloom beat her to it.

"That was why I was hired in the first place. My darn memory. It comes in useful when dealing with contracts and things like--"

The door chime rang, mercifully cutting Miss Bloom off in mid-sentence. Hoshi hastened to the door, grateful for the interruption.

The door slid open to reveal Malcolm, data padd in hand. He'd gone off to check something in the armory after escorting the women to Hoshi's cabin, but was back for the briefing. "Is she ready?" he asked.

"Not yet!" Hoshi said, putting a hand up to keep him from entering. Turning to face her guest and pointing to the Starfleet uniform jumpsuit laid out one of the bunks, she said, "Why don't you get changed while I step outside to talk to the lieutenant?"

"Um, okay," Miss Bloom said, her earlier timidness returning.

Hoshi quickly stepped out of the cabin, allowing the door to close behind her.

"Thank God you came by!" Hoshi said.

"What's wrong?" Malcolm asked, suddenly becoming very alert.

"She's talking and she won't shut up!"

"Oh," Malcolm said, relaxing. "I thought there was a problem." At Hoshi's exasperated expression, he amended, "A security problem."

"It could be. She's going to have to keep her mouth shut when she's out among the crew or she's going to give herself away." Hoshi wearily ran a hand across her eyes. "All I did was ask if she was okay, and she's been on a roll ever since. I can see how she'd make a good witness, though. She said she has an eidetic memory."

Malcolm smiled wryly. "Well, then. We shouldn't have to repeat our instructions to her, should we?"

Hoshi sighed. "No, I suppose not. We're going to have to coach her on how to act, though, if she's going to fit in. That means making her familiar with certain procedures and schedules on board, and rank protocol. We can't expect her to remain in my cabin the whole time. That would only arouse more suspicion why a Starfleet specialist who made a special trip to rendezvous with us isn't doing anything."

Glancing at the door, Malcolm asked, "Think she's ready?"

"Let me check," Hoshi said, turning back to the door. She opened it and looked inside.

Miss Bloom, dressed in a standard blue uniform, was standing in the middle of the cabin. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her shoulders were hunched, and a strand of unruly brown hair stuck out at an angle. Uncertainty radiated from her lackluster grayish eyes.

She was the most pitiful example of a member of Starfleet that Hoshi could ever remember seeing.

From behind Hoshi, Malcolm murmured, "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

It didn't take a telepath to sense the growing unease of Miss Bloom. She was seated at the desk in Hoshi's cabin as Malcolm outlined what was expected of her.

In disbelief, she stuttered, "You want m-m-me to im-impersonate a security officer?"

"No, not at all," he told her. "You're supposed to be a weapons' development expert. The cover we've devised for you puts you in security, but you'll be answerable only to me. You won't have to work closely with any of the other crew, and much of the time can be spent in my office where you'll be...oh, why don't we say correlating data for field tests of a new weapon?"

Malcolm paused as Miss Bloom mulled that over.

Trying to reassure her, Hoshi said from her seat on the bunk, "You won't have to talk to anyone about what you're supposedly doing, either. If anyone asks, you can say that it's classified and you can't talk about it."

Miss Bloom slowly nodded her head twice. "That could work, I guess," she said.

Malcolm reached into a pocket on his uniform and pulled out something.

"We thought it best to make you an ensign," he said, holding out a shiny rank insignia bar to her. When she looked up at him in puzzlement, he leaned down and attached it to her collar. "No one other than I will outrank you in security, and when I introduce you to my staff, I'll make it clear that you only take orders from me."

"Introduce me?" she asked, clearly not liking the idea. "Aren't I supposed to be keeping a low profile?"

"Whenever new staff members come on board," Hoshi said, "it's up to the department head to introduce them to the rest of his or her staff. If Lieutenant Reed didn't introduce you, they'd know something unusual is going on."

"I don't understand why I have to do this," Miss Bloom said, scratching her head and mussing her hair even more. "You're supposed to be protecting me from the people I worked for, not your own crew."

Hoshi exchanged a glance with Malcolm. He gave her a look that said since it was her idea, she could explain it.

"This is a delicate situation," Hoshi said. "Our orders from Starfleet are that the fewer people who know who you really are, the better. There have been a few instances in the past where a member of the crew had outside contacts we didn't know about, and that caused some problems. And, from another perspective, the fewer people who know, the fewer who could be hurt because of their contact with you."

Miss Bloom went pale. "You mean they could in danger simply because they know who I am?"

"The people you worked for are, by your own account, Miss Bloom, quite ruthless," Malcolm said with a hard edge to his voice. "Certainly the possibility of guilt by association has occurred to you. Not only are we protecting you, but to some extent we are protecting the rest of the crew. If someone admitted to knowledge of you, do you think your former employers would stop to ask what exactly it is that they know about you? Or would they just kill them out of hand?"

Miss Bloom gasped, and Hoshi said, "Stop it, Malcolm! You're scaring her."

"It's not intentional," Malcolm continued in a less harsh tone. "But Miss Bloom needs to understand what we must do to protect her, as well as what she must do. That includes no talking to other members of the crew unless it's absolutely necessary or unavoidable."

Her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide, Miss Bloom nodded.

"Now," Malcolm said briskly, "we're going to have to come up with a new name for you. Perhaps we could still use your first name, if it's not terribly unusual."

A shudder went through Miss Bloom. In a very quiet voice, she said, "Violet."

It was all Hoshi could do to keep from laughing out loud as Malcolm blinked, putting the first name together with the last. Hoshi had already known her first name, as he surely had from looking at her dossier, but apparently it hadn't hit him.

"Violet," he repeated somewhat awkwardly. "Well, that's not a very common name nowadays, so perhaps--"

"I hate my name," Violet spat out, for once showing some backbone. "What were my parents thinking giving me that name? Violet Bloom! Do you have any idea how much teasing I had to put up with when I was growing up?"

Showing no signs of letting up, Violet paused to take a deep breath, and Hoshi took the opportunity to say placatingly, "Perhaps we should come up with a different name. What would you like to be called?"

Violet seemed to have shrunk down into herself when her outburst was interrupted. "Uh, I don't know," she said, avoiding the two officers' gazes. "Something simple."

"Jane Doe is the first name that comes to mind," Malcolm said, "but that's too obvious. No one would believe it was your real name, and that might be a conversation starter for some of our more, ah, social crewmen."

Hoshi suppressed a smile. He had to be talking about Travis.

"How about Jane Smith?" Malcolm suggested. "Very simple, very plain--"

He broke off abruptly as he realized what he'd just said. Plain was the perfect word to describe Violet. Except for her alleged memory talent and her name, there was nothing that wasn't plain about her. The red blush staining Violet's cheeks had to mean she'd picked up on the unintentional description as well.

Hoshi could see Malcolm was embarrassed. As for herself, she was embarrassed for both of them.

"Tell you what," Hoshi said to Malcolm. "Why don't you leave us alone for a while? I'll fill Violet in on some of the other things she needs to know. Come back in about an hour and we'll take her to the mess hall to get something to eat."

Like any good tactical officer, Malcolm knew when to retreat. With a grateful nod to Hoshi, he headed for the door. Once there, he turned around as if to say something, apparently thought better of it, and let himself out.

Hoshi turned to Violet to find her staring wistfully at the door through which Malcolm had departed.

"I have that effect on a lot of men," Violet said sadly.

* * *

Hoshi went over everything she could think of that Violet would need to know.

She told her about protocol concerning ranks -- no saluting but defer to anyone of higher rank, such as letting them go first through a hatch unless the senior officer indicated otherwise. She told her that she shouldn't wander off by herself -- there were a few restricted areas and she would get into trouble. She showed her how to use the comm panel -- just in case she needed help and Malcolm wasn't around.

She even told her that Chef liked to flirt with both the female and male crewmembers. No sense in having Violet go into a fit if she saw Chef slap a crewman of either gender on the rump or, heaven forbid, by some strange circumstance she happened to be in the galley and Chef gave her an unsolicited love pat.

"Is there anything you have questions about?" Hoshi asked when she'd finished.

Violet was looking rather dazed. "Um. I don't think so," she said.

"Good!" Hoshi said, forcing a smile. "I'm sure the lieutenant will have some more things to talk to you about when he gets here before we get some dinner."

Violet looked away. "About that..."

"Yes?"

"I'm...I'm not really hungry. I'm more tired than anything," Violet said, getting up to go over to her bunk where she sat and pulled out the pillow and hugged it. "This has all been a bit overwhelming. I'd really just rather stay here and let my mind go blank, if you know what I mean. I haven't had a chance to just sit and do nothing. Well, I guess I did on the transport but--"

"I think I know what you mean," Hoshi said, cutting Violet off before she could get up steam. Even so, Hoshi felt a rush of sympathy for the woman despite her annoyance. Violet had been through an awful lot, and had to be scared. "Let me make sure it's okay with the lieutenant, though."

Violet nodded and hugged the pillow tighter as the door chime sounded. Hoshi hopped up and went to the door. Opening it, she said, "Speak of the devil."

Malcolm's brow knitted at her remark, but he let it pass. "Everything OK?" he asked.

Hoshi glanced back at Violet, who was huddled cross-legged on her bunk, pillow still firmly ensconced in her arms. Motioning Malcolm to step back, Hoshi entered the corridor and let the door close behind her.

"She's exhausted," Hoshi said, adding with a grimace, "though you'd never know it from the way her mouth keeps going."

"She didn't seem very talkative around me," Malcolm said.

"I think she's shy around men. And I have a much more sympathetic personality than you do."

Malcolm quirked an eyebrow at that remark. But before he could say anything, Hoshi told him about Violet's desire to be alone and rest.

"But I'm not sure she should be left alone," Hoshi said. "One or the other of us is supposed to be keeping an eye on her."

"I could go to the mess and bring back something for both of you, but I think you could use a break from her too," he said. He unclipped a scanner from a loop at waist level on his uniform. "I have just the thing to take care of a situation like this."

"A scanner?"

"I've modified it," he said, twisting a knob and holding the device up to the door access panel where he keyed in some information. "I've input her biosign and yours. If she leaves, it will sound an alarm on this scanner. Also, if someone other than you or she enters the cabin, it will also sound an alarm."

At first impressed by Malcolm's cleverness, Hoshi was struck by a sudden suspicion. "What else do you have monitoring my cabin?" she asked.

Still working on inputting some information into the scanner, Malcolm replied, "I haven't had time yet, but I'd like to set up a video survelliance camera." He paused to check something on the screen of the scanner.

"Malcolm," Hoshi said sweetly.

Looking up from the scanner, he straightened and took a step back at her outraged expression.

"Don't even think about putting a camera in my quarters!"


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Malcolm looked around the mess hall and immediately realized it was a good thing Violet had stayed in Hoshi's cabin. Seated at a table across the room, trying to catch his or Hoshi's eye, was the biggest gossip on the ship.

"Close call," he murmured to Hoshi, tilting his head toward Travis.

Hoshi followed his gaze and agreed. "She's not up to facing him yet. Darn! I should have warned her about him."

"Let's sit at a table away from him so we can talk," Malcolm suggested.

"Oh, like that's going to work! Not only will he come right over to where we are, but his feelings will be hurt," she said as she piled food on her plate. "We may as well sit with him and tell him the truth. Violet -- I mean Jane -- is very tired and decided to call it a night."

Malcolm of all people knew that telling the truth when no lie was needed was the best way to handle such a situation. The only problem with sitting with Travis was that he and Hoshi wouldn't be able to discuss their charge. They'd have to wait until Travis left.

He picked out a fish entree and some chips for himself before moving over to the beverage dispenser. That's when he noticed what Hoshi had selected to eat. She had a pasta-and-vegetable combo, a salad, and a sandwich, as well as an extra plate with two desserts.

"All that listening give you a big appetite?" he asked curiously.

"No," she huffed as she grabbed a glass. "Vio-- Jane's going to be hungry later. I'll take the sandwich and a dessert back for her. If she's not asleep, the food should at least keep her from talking for five minutes."

"Chef's not going to like dishes leaving the mess hall," he pointed out as he filled his coffee cup, then took the glass from her.

"Milk," she told him as he put her glass in the dispenser. "Chef's just going to have to deal with it. I'm not in the mood for one of his snits."

"Your funeral," he murmured, filling her glass. He carefully balanced her glass of milk, his cup of coffee, and his plate as they moved off to join Travis.

The young helmsman's face was alight with eagerness as they sat down. "So? Where is she?" he asked Hoshi.

"She's resting," Hoshi informed him and saw his face fall. Putting her napkin on her lap, she added, "She had a long trip to get here and she's very tired."

Travis directed his next statement to Malcolm. "Must be some weapon she's working on if they sent her all the way out here instead of waiting until we get back to Earth in a few weeks."

Malcolm merely grunted, realizing that at least part of the ruse was working. Travis didn't know their sole reason for returning to Earth was to take their passenger there for a trial. There was no chance of an unbiased jury on Thiera, so the prosecutors had asked for and received a change of venue to the colony's homeworld.

He tucked into his fish and chips, leaving the conversation to Hoshi. She was much better at dissembling than he was. If Travis' curiosity got out of hand, he'd use his higher rank to shut him down. But in the meantime, he was going to enjoy his dinner.

"I was looking forward to meeting her," Travis said, looking back and forth between the two of them. "I guess I can wait one more day."

Malcolm saw Hoshi swallow. It would be interesting to see how she dealt with the persistent ensign's interest in the newest "crew member." He wasn't sure what she was up to when she glanced around as if to see if anyone else was listening. She leaned forward, a crook of her finger urging Travis to do the same.

In a low voice, she said, "Ensign Smith is incredibly shy, Travis. She's had a hard time adjusting to Starfleet."

Uh-oh, thought Malcolm. What she'd said was true as far as it went, but it also might be all Travis needed to encourage him to try to make friends with a shy newcomer.

But Hoshi wasn't done.

"She almost quit a few months back. But Starfleet really needs her expertise, so the powers that be went all out to make her comfortable. She's some kind of genius when it comes to whatever it is she's working on. Isn't she, Malcolm?"

Caught off-guard at being drawn into the conversation, Malcolm almost choked on a chip. He took a sip of coffee to ease his throat and managed to rasp out, "Yes, I believe she is an expert of some sort. Incredible memory, for one thing."

Travis backed off a bit, but not all the way. "If she's so shy, how come you've got her as a roomie?" he asked Hoshi.

Yeah, explain your way out of that one, Malcolm thought, relieved that he wasn't the one to have to come up with another half-truth.

"Well, not only is she shy, she's insecure, too," Hoshi said. "Starfleet wanted someone who could be a calming, reassuring influence on her."

"Oh, man!" Travis said. "She can't be that bad, can she?"

Her features settling into a disgruntled expression, Hoshi said, "You have no idea."

Malcolm had to admit that was the unvarnished truth.

Faced with his companions' lack of response, Travis dropped the subject of Ensign Smith. Malcolm deliberately ate as slowly as he could, hoping the helmsman would finish his meal and go away, leaving him and Hoshi in peace. He still wanted to talk to her about their assignment.

But the fates seemed to be conspiring against them. Travis finally left, and Malcolm put down the data padd he'd been looking at as a ploy to avoid conversation. That's when Trip Tucker walked in.

He heard a groan of commiseration from Hoshi. "Is everyone on this ship going to stop by our table?" he heard her gripe as the chief engineer got some dinner and walked in their direction.

Malcolm hastily tossed his napkin on his plate and got to his feet. While Trip might not be terribly interested in Ensign Smith, he'd undoubtedly want to know about her technical expertise, especially since weapons -- her alleged area of specialization -- went hand in hand with power consumption, a topic dear to any engineer's heart.

"Come on," Malcolm said in an urgent whisper. "We're done here."

Hoshi followed his cue, wrapping the sandwich in a napkin and then sliding her chair back. She was standing, sandwich and extra dessert in hand, by the time Trip arrived at the table.

"Aw," Trip said. "You leavin'?"

"Yes," Malcolm said, trying to think of a reason that Trip wouldn't question. When he could come up with an excuse only for himself, he decided Hoshi was on her own. "There's some overdue inventory that needs to be done in the armory."

He told himself that Hoshi had done a more than adequate job throwing Travis off-track. Trip shouldn't present too much of a problem. There was absolutely no reason for his back to be feeling daggers coming from her eyes as he walked away.

He slipped out the door of the mess hall and took a few steps down the corridor. Leaning against the bulkhead, he waited. Hoshi ought to be along any moment.

Five minutes passed, and he began to wonder what the hold-up was. When ten minutes had gone by, he was considering going back in and rescuing her, but the door to the mess hall opened and Hoshi stepped out.

Seeing that she was carrying a covered tray, he said, "Now Chef's really going to be mad."

"No, he's not. And thanks a lot for leaving me to deal not only with Trip, but Chef!"

"Was he angry because you were taking food out of the mess?"

Hoshi's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Just the opposite. He said he'd heard there's a new crew member on board and he is eager to 'make zee acquaintance,'" she finished in a French accent. She glanced down at the tray she was holding. "This is his way to welcome her aboard."

Malcolm took the tray from her and they walked toward the turbolift. "Have you got any ideas how to combat all this interest in our passenger?"

"It's only natural the crew is interested, what with a new face on board after being away from home for so long," Hoshi said, "but I've never seen anything quite like this. Is it possible that by trying to hide her away we're going to generate more interest in her?"

Arriving at the turbolift, Malcolm managed to punch the button to summon the car while balancing the tray. The door swooshed open in front of them and he waited until Hoshi stepped in before following. He tilted his head toward the control panel, but Hoshi, her hand hovering over it, hesitated.

"Where to?" she asked.

"Back to your cabin," he answered promptly. "We'll drop this off and see how 'Jane' is doing."

Hoshi hit the appropriate button and the turbolift began to move.

"Maybe," he mused out loud, "the best thing to do would be to get our 'shrinking violet' out in the open. That might quell some of the crew's curiosity."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Hoshi asked dubiously. "What if she accidentally says something she shouldn't?"

Giving her a lopsided smile, he said, "You said she's shy around men. Most of the crew is comprised of men. That should make her clam up."

"I don't know. That might be expecting a bit much of her," Hoshi said. "Not to mention it's rather mean, especially since she seems to be painfully shy."

"Hmm. I suppose you're right. But I don't intend to throw a party for her. Just get her out a bit. Have her do a few simple things in the armory, for example. You could take her for a work-out in the gym. Anything just to let the crew see her out and around."

Hoshi's troubled face cleared. "That might work. Once their curiosity is appeased, they'll leave her alone. That would certainly make our jobs a lot easier."

The turbolift door opened on C deck and the two officers stepped out and walked the short distance to Hoshi's cabin.

"This is really weird," Hoshi commented as she keyed in her access code. "I'm entering my own cabin, and I feel like I should ring the chime first."

Any comment Malcolm could have made was cut off by a shrill shriek from inside the cabin as the the door opened.

"It's just us!" Hoshi called out. "We didn't mean to frighten you."

Violet was cowering on her bunk, the pillow clutched like a shield in her white-knuckled fists. "Sorry," she gasped out. "You startled me."

Malcolm followed Hoshi into the cabin and put the tray on the desk.

"We brought you some food," Hoshi said. "I thought you might be hungry."

"That's...that's nice," Violet stammered.

Malcolm backed up a few steps after setting down the tray. Hoshi went over and sat on her bunk. Violet's eyes darted from one to the other of them, and then she slowly got up and went over to the desk. She sat down, cautiously lifted the lid from the tray to reveal beef medallions, a baked potato smothered in butter and sour cream, and peas with baby onions. She sighed.

"What's wrong?" Hoshi asked. "Chef made that tray up specially for you."

"I am a little hungry," Violet said, gazing at the final item on the tray -- a piece of devil's food cake with thick chocolate icing. "It all looks very good, but I'm allergic to chocolate."

* * *

Malcolm and Hoshi didn't get a chance to talk further that evening. In the awkward silence that had followed Violet's pronouncement about her allergy to chocolate, Malcolm once again beat a hasty retreat. It wasn't like he and Hoshi could discuss Violet in her presence. That just wouldn't be proper. And he didn't think it would be a good idea to ask Hoshi to leave her again that evening.

After informing Violet he'd come by the cabin in the morning to escort her to breakfast before heading to the armory, he'd said good evening and departed with a sense of relief. Going back to his quarters, he found himself cataloguing the woman's idiosyncrasies. She was shy, she was high-strung, and she was somewhat klutzy. Graceful was not a word that came to mind when one thought of Violet.

That she was also allergic to chocolate prompted a momentary pang of sympathy. He took shots so he could tolerate pineapple, after all.

What was Chef going to think when his dessert was returned untouched? The temperamental master of the galley had been known to fly off the handle for lesser things. Then again, if Chef was greatly offended, maybe he'd keep his distance from Violet.

Stepping into his quarters, Malcolm let out a gust of breath. It was a sad day for those in security when you had to worry about how a ship's glorified cook was going to react to an unintended slight from a valuable witness you were supposed to be protecting.

Malcolm sat down on his bunk and pulled off his boots. Tossing them aside, he lay back on the bunk, throwing an arm over his eyes. It was going to be a long two weeks before they got back to Earth.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Hoshi lay awake in her bunk, staring at the overhead bulkhead in her darkened cabin. She really wanted to go to sleep. She was due on the bridge first thing in the morning. She needed to sleep, or she'd be cranky all day, not to mention having horrid dark circles under her eyes.

She rolled over on her side so that her back was to the other bunk in her cabin. She put her pillow over her head, but it didn't help. She could still hear Violet snoring.

Hoshi wasn't surprised the woman snored. Somehow it seemed in keeping with her personality. She punched her pillow and reflected that she was lucky Violet didn't talk in her sleep. That would have been too much to bear.

Hoshi eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep punctuated by moments of abrupt wakefulness when Violet would issue a particularly loud snore. When the alarm sounded, Hoshi was almost grateful the long night was over except for the fact that she was so tired. Tonight, she thought as she levered herself up out of her bunk, she ought to be exhausted enough to sleep through anything, including Violet's snoring.

Looking over, she saw her roommate was awake. Only Violet's disheveled hair and sleepy eyes peeking out over the blanket were visible.

"You want the bathroom first?" Hoshi asked.

"No. You go ahead," Violet mumbled from beneath the blanket.

Shutting the bathroom door behind her, Hoshi was glad that Violet would be relegated to Malcolm's care for most of the day. She didn't know if she could do her required duties on the bridge while listening to a constant stream of inane chatter. Malcolm wouldn't have to worry about Violet's motor mouth, she thought enviously; the woman seemed to be petrified in his presence.

Hoshi quickly performed her morning ablutions and got into a clean uniform. Putting a bright smile on her face, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

Violet was sitting up on her bunk, her comfort item of choice -- the pillow -- on her lap.

"Next!" Hoshi said cheerily, moving over to make up her bunk.

Leaning over to tuck in the sheet at the far corner of the mattress, Hoshi almost fell on her face as Violet bumped into her on her way past in the narrow aisle between the bunks.

"Sorry!" Violet said.

"That's all right," Hoshi said through gritted teeth as she pushed her self upright and resumed making the bunk. When she heard the bathroom door click shut, she turned around and glanced at the chronometer. They'd have to hurry if they were going to be able to get some breakfast before she had to report to the bridge.

Not that she was looking forward to taking Violet to the mess hall. She and Malcolm had agreed it was best to let the crew see Ensign Smith out and about. At least they'd have a reason not to linger in the mess hall since they had to report for duty shifts, and both she and Malcolm would be there to deflect any inordinate interest in her.

Hoshi heard the water start running in the shower and sighed. If Violet took a long time in the shower, they'd have to skip breakfast. The prospect didn't bother Hoshi, but it would only be postponing the debut of Violet among the crew.

She sat down on her bunk to wait. After a few moments of listening to the running water, her eyelids begin to droop. The sound of the door chime jarred her back to full awareness. Another glance at the chronometer showed that Malcolm was right on time.

She pushed herself off the bunk and went to the door. "Come on in," she said, after opening it. "Violet's getting ready."

"We'll make a quick foray into the mess hall, then I'll take charge of her," Malcolm said, sounding to Hoshi as if this outing was a battle for which he'd planned tactics and strategy. Knowing Malcolm, he probably had.

The door to the bathroom opened. Violet came out, dressed in the same uniform as the night before. It was badly rumpled, but they didn't have time to fetch another uniform from the quartermaster. Hoshi belatedly realized she should have known Violet would need more than one uniform. She was going to be with them for two weeks.

Adding requisitioning another uniform to her mental list of things to do, Hoshi led them out of the cabin and down the corridor. She was trying to psyche herself for running the gauntlet of stares from curious crew members in the mess hall. If she was this preoccupied, she could only imagine Violet's mental state at the moment.

Hoshi paused long enough outside the mess hall doors to give Violet a reassuring smile and adjust her rank insignia which was slightly askew, but not long enough for her to bolt, which wasn't beyond the realm of possibility judging by the hunted look in her eyes. Malcolm, she noticed approvingly, had come up behind Violet. They had her boxed in. She couldn't run if she wanted to.

They entered the mess hall to find it about half full of crewmen eating before reporting for their duty shifts. Hoshi had been reasonably certain Travis would be among them, and there he was, seated at a table by himself, his gaze following them as they headed for the buffet-style serving line Chef set up for breakfast.

Hoshi quickly picked out waffles, some sliced fruit, and a cup of tea. Violet took two slices of toast and a glass of orange juice.

"I can't eat much when I'm tense," Violet whispered after seeing Hoshi look at her plate.

Just as well, Hoshi thought. She wasn't planning on dallying over breakfast in any case. The less they had to eat, the quicker they could get out of here. Taking a deep breath, she led the way to the table where Travis was waiting.

"May we join you, Travis?" Hoshi asked.

"Of course!" the helmsman answered brightly, rising to his feet.

Hoshi took a seat next to Travis, bracing herself for the upcoming inquisition. Travis was in full welcome mode, smiling broadly at Violet across the table from him. For her part, Violet glanced quickly at Travis and then sat down, keeping her gaze on her plate. Malcolm took the last seat.

"Travis," Hoshi said, "this is Ensign Jane Smith. Jane, this is Ensign Travis Mayweather, our helmsman."

"Welcome aboard," Travis said.

His smile slowly faded into a frown as Enterprise's newest crew member, eyes still averted, acknowledged the introduction with a slight bob of her head.

Hoshi caught Travis' eye and mouthed, "Shy."

Travis returned his attention to Violet. Malcolm wasn't being the least bit helpful as he began eating, so Hoshi decided it was up to her to deflect Travis' regard away from Violet.

"So, Travis," she said. "How long do you estimate it will be before we arrive at Earth?"

Travis' eyes lost their focus for a moment as he contemplated their current speed, distance from Earth, and astronomical variables -- just as Hoshi knew he would.

"Thirteen days and two hours, give or take a few minutes," he said after a few moments.

"You could really give Commander T'Pol a run for her money figuring out things like that in your head," Hoshi said, trying to keep the conversational ball rolling in a direction away from Violet.

Hoshi hoped that that by keeping Travis occupied, she was helping to make Violet feel more comfortable. She snuck a glance to see how their silent companion was doing. Violet, she saw, was looking in repulsed fascination at Malcolm.

The lapse in conversation registered with Malcolm and he looked up from his plate to find the others looking at him. "What?" he asked.

Hoshi shook her head and Travis shrugged. That's when Malcolm felt Violet's stare and turned his head toward her. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Violet gulped and looked at his plate. "You're actually eating...that?" she asked.

Malcolm looked down at his breakfast. Hoshi knew it was one of his favorites.

"Yes," Malcolm replied with noble dignity. "I put peanut butter on pancakes. I like them that way."

He speared a section of pancake liberally daubed with peanut butter and put it in his mouth. He chewed for several moments and then swallowed as his dining companions watched.

"Ew," Violet said quietly and put her napkin over her mouth.

Violet's one-syllabic comment effectively squelched any further conversation. Travis downed the last of his juice and, getting to his feet, said, "I've got to get to the bridge. It was nice making your acquaintance, Ensign. Hoshi, are you coming?"

"I'll be along as soon as I finish this," she said, waving her fork toward what was left of her own breakfast.

"Okay. See you there," Travis said. He directed one last frown at Violet, who had resumed her hunched-over posture, before walking away.

Hoshi waited until he was out of earshot and then let out the breath she'd been holding. "That went well, don't you think?" she said softly to no one in particular.

Malcolm merely grunted, casting a wary eye at Violet as he took another bite of his pancakes.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Malcolm, as a proper gentleman, waited for Violet to precede him in leaving the mess hall, but she stood there staring blankly at him.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing toward the open door.

"Oh!" she said, flushing bright scarlet and scurrying through the doorway.

Malcolm shook his head as he followed her out. He was heartily thankful Violet wasn't a permanent addition to his staff. Then again, if she was, he wouldn't be handling her with kid gloves, and he damn well wouldn't be worried about protecting her. She'd know how to do that herself if she were a properly trained security officer.

They started off down the corridor on their way to the turbolift. They were about halfway there when a shout came from behind them.

"Lieutenant Reeeeed!"

Malcolm stopped and closed his eyes. He'd been hoping to avoid this. Having got in and out of the mess hall without seeing Chef no doubt had given him a false sense of security. Knowing he couldn't avoid him now, Malcolm reluctantly turned around. Next to him, Violet did the same.

"Yes, Chef?"

"Shame on you!" Chef said in a stern voice as he came up to them. "You have failed to introduce me to our charming newcomer."

In his peripheral vision, Malcolm could see Violet's eyes go wide in alarm. Hoshi must have warned her about Chef.

"We're running late, Chef," he improvised, taking Violet by the arm and moving back a step. "Perhaps later."

"Ah, but you are here now, and I must tell her something."

Uh-oh, Malcolm thought. Here it comes. He's pissed about the chocolate cake being returned. Malcolm had hoped to avoid one of Chef's little displays of temper, so of course it was going to happen in one of the most heavily traveled corridors in the ship. His luck was perverse that way sometimes.

"I have heard you have the allergy to chocolate," Chef said, addressing Violet, whose eyes were still wide as she took in the white outfit and hat that Chef wore. "For you, I will make a special creation. You must have very discriminating tastes if you cannot indulge in the chocolate, no?"

Violet's mouth dropped open.

"Tonight, you will come to the mess hall, and I will unveil my latest masterpiece in desserts. You must be there -- you have inspired me!"

Chef moved forward as if to kiss her cheek and Malcolm hastily stepped between them. "None of that," he warned the other man darkly. "Like I told you, we're late. If you'll excuse us?"

Taking a firmer hold on Violet's arm, Malcolm hustled her off to the turbolift. The door opened almost immediately and they stepped in.

As the car began to move, Violet asked in a small voice, "Is he always so...forward?"

Staring at the control panel's deck indicator, Malcolm replied tersely, "Yes." He couldn't help adding, "With everyone."

* * *

Hoshi hadn't been on the bridge for more than ten minutes when she was summoned to the captain's ready room. She'd rather expected it. He'd want to know how Violet was getting along. 

"How's our new crew member doing?" Jon asked. "Is she getting settled in?"

Hoshi made a sound in the back of her throat, one of those noises that signify not quite a "no" and not quite a "yes," but something in between.

Jon frowned. "That well, huh?"

"Oh, sir!" Hoshi blurted, then caught herself before she could start to whine. "It's just that she's so shy. If we didn't have to keep from the crew who she really is, she could stay hidden away and no one would bother her. But this 'hiding in plain sight' plan has some problems I didn't anticipate, especially since she's so...timid."

"Oh?"

"Well, certain members of the crew will go out of their way to meet her, and you can imagine the strain it's putting on her. I thought she was going to have a heart attack this morning in the mess hall when she met Travis."

"Surely this interest will blow over in a few days," Jon said.

"I hope so!"

Jon studied her for a few moments before asking, "Anything else?"

Hoshi opened her mouth but quickly shut it. The captain didn't need -- or want -- to hear that Violet was klutzy or that she snored. Straightening, Hoshi said, "Nothing I can't handle, sir. Oh! And we're calling her Jane Smith."

John gave her a half smile. "That's rather bland, isn't it?"

Hoshi restrained herself from saying anything, contenting herself with merely raising her eyebrows ambiguously.

"It sounds like you and Malcolm have everything well in hand," he said. "I'm sure you'll be able to handle it. It's only for two weeks."

Two weeks, Hoshi thought as she left the ready room. Two long weeks.

* * *

Malcolm's natural reticence served him well as he escorted Violet to the armory. He felt no need to make small talk, and neither apparently did Violet. They finished the ride in the turbolift and the short walk to the main door of the armory in silence. 

This time, however, when Malcolm opened the door and took a step back, Violet knew what was expected. She preceded him into his domain --

-- only to stop without warning, causing him to run into her.

"Excuse me," he grated out, grabbing her shoulders from behind to steady her and simultaneously stepping around her to see what the problem was.

Malcolm did a quick visual scan of the armory but saw nothing amiss. Two of his staff were at work on the upper level, running the weekly diagnostics on the fire control system. The work tables were all neat and tidy. The phase rifles were stacked in their locker. The torpedoes were gleaming in their racks.

Shifting his gaze to Violet beside him, he asked, "Is there a problem?"

"Ah, n--n--no," she stuttered. "It's just...are those torpedoes?" she asked, pointing a shaking finger toward the racks.

Malcolm resisted the urge to roll his eyes. In a low voice, he said, "We're in the armory, Ensign. It's where we keep the torpedoes."

"Yes. Of course," she said.

He walked toward his office, expecting her to follow. Reaching the door, he turned to see she was still rooted to the deck by the main door. "Ensign Smith!"

Violet flinched and tore her eyes away from the deadly missiles to look in confusion at him. He made a "come here" motion with his finger at her and comprehension dawned on her face. She hurried over and stepped into his office.

Closing the door after following her in, he regarded her in exasperation. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Ensign," he said, emphasizing her make-believe rank. "You're supposed to be an expert in weapons development. It probably would be more convincing if you didn't act like you were frightened of them."

"You're right," Violet said, cringing and avoiding his eyes. "Sorry."

"And please," he said, trying but failing to keep the irritation out of his voice, "quit apologizing."

"Ah, sure. Sorry," she said and immediately squeezed her eyes shut as she realized she'd done what he'd just asked her not to do.

Malcolm decided the woman needed some time alone to compose herself. He needed a few minutes away from her himself to regain his own even temper.

"I have a few things I need to do in the armory," he told her. "You need anything, just come to the door and call for me."

Not meeting his gaze, Violet nodded.

Some of the phase pistols needed to be torn down and checked. Malcolm decided that would be as good a chore as any to keep him occupied. He had just finished stripping down the first pistol when he realized with a guilty pang that there was absolutely nothing to keep Violet occupied in his office. She was probably still standing in there where he'd left her, feeling sorry for herself.

He put the pistol down on the work table with a muttered curse, more angry with his reaction to Violet than he was with her personally. He stalked over to his office and yanked the door open. He wasn't the least surprised that Violet jumped about a meter.

"Come out of there," he said gruffly. Moderating his tone at her panicked look, he explained, "I thought perhaps you might like to watch as I work on the phase pistols."

"Uh, all right," she said uncertainly and shuffled after him.

At the work table, Malcolm picked up some parts of the disassembled pistol and indicated she should stand next to him. A quick glance at the upper deck showed neither of his staff members were paying attention to what was going on on the lower level, but that could change. He began quietly explaining to Violet what he was doing as he went through the process of putting the pistol back together.

The first pistol done, he picked up the second and took it apart, inspecting each component carefully. What happened next was his own fault, he realized later.

"Care to try putting it back together?" he asked.

The startled glance she gave him was answer enough.

"You're the weapons development expert," he said from the corner of his mouth. "If my men see you actually working, it will go a long way toward convincing them that you are what we say you are."

Violet drew a shuddering breath and hesitantly picked up the pistol's outer casing. She began putting the pistol back together, slowly at first, but to Malcolm's amazement, she picked up speed as she continued. All the pieces went into their proper places. She slid the final component -- the power cell -- into place and clicked the cover shut.

It must be her incredible memory, he realized. She'd watched him put one pistol together and then take this one apart, and had done everything he'd done. And she'd done it faster than most of his staff could. The only thing she hadn't done was put the safety on. She may not have noticed that step since when he'd done it, the safety was on the side of the pistol away from her.

He was about to congratulate her when the pistol slipped from her awkward grip and she fumbled for it. Too late, he saw her finger brush against the trigger. _Thank God it's set on stun _was his last fleeting thought as the beam struck him.

The distinctive sound of a phase pistol being fired and the thud of a body hitting the deck brought both armory staff members to the railing to peer down at the lower level.

Ensign Smith was standing over their prone department head, a phase pistol dangling from one hand. Looking up at them, she screeched, "Sorry!"


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Hoshi's racing heartbeat finally slowed to something near its normal rate as she approached sickbay. She halted outside to take a few deep, calming breaths, trying to regain her composure.

When Doctor Phlox had comm'd the bridge to report that someone had been injured in the armory, for some reason she'd assumed it had been an attack on Violet and wondered how it had happened so soon with no warning. That was followed by a disconcerting thought: The intruder alert hadn't sounded, so could it have been a member of the crew who'd attacked her?

But that shock was nothing compared to when Phlox had said that Ensign Smith had shot Malcolm.

Hoshi had once again, of course, assumed the worst. In the sudden quiet that had blanketed the bridge after the doctor's announcement, she had forced herself to ask, "Is he...?"

"Oh, he'll be fine," Phlox's voice had reassured her over the comm. "but he'll have a horrendous headache when he wakes up. Most humans who've been stunned usually do, especially those who have been shot at close range."

Taking one last deep breath before entering sickbay, Hoshi decided she was going to give Violet -- star witness in an interstellar trial or not -- the worst scolding she'd ever gotten in her miserable existence, if only for scaring the living daylights out of her.

One look at Violet hovering anxiously at the side of the biobed on which Malcolm lay, however, killed that impulse. The recriminating words on Hoshi's lips died at the expression of abject despair on Violet's face.

"I didn't mean to do it!' Violet sobbed, wringing her hands as Hoshi approached the biobed. "It was an accident."

Hoshi paused. After breakfast she had begun to gather her frayed patience back together, soothed by the routine of bridge work without Violet around. Now her patience was close to snapping again.

But the woman was the picture of apologetic ineptitude, and Hoshi couldn't see how Malcolm's being stunned could have been anything but an accident. That was followed by the wicked realization that if his staff ever found out Violet wasn't proficient with weapons, he was never going to live this down.

"I know you didn't mean to do it," Hoshi said as she went to stand by Violet. Gazing down at the armory officer's face, she saw a purplish bruise forming on one cheek. She looked questioningly at Violet.

Wiping away some tears, Violet said, "He hit his face on the work table when he fell down after I shot him."

Phlox came bustling out from behind the partition and joined the small gathering at the biobed. He checked the readouts above the bed and smiled. "He should make a full recovery," he said cheerfully. Casting a glance sideways at Violet, he added, "It's nothing that hasn't happened to the lieutenant before."

Hoshi couldn't resist getting in a dig. "This is probably the first time that he's been shot by a weapons expert in his own armory," she said dryly.

She immediately regretted her words as Violet let out another sob and covered her face with her hands. In the woman's current state, she might inadvertently give something away. Hoshi put her arm around Violet and drew her away from the biobed, aware that Phlox was looking on with unabashed interest.

"Let me know when he wakes up, would you, Doctor?" Hoshi said over her shoulder as she led Violet toward the door.

"Of course!" he called after them. "Oh! And I need to schedule a physical for Ensign Smith."

Hoshi faltered in mid-step. She'd totally forgotten that it was standard procedure for new crew members to undergo a physical examination after they came on board.

"Come see me at your earliest convenience, Ensign Smith," Phlox continued.

Hoshi kept Violet moving toward the exit. She'd have to come up with some good excuses to keep her charge away from the doctor for two weeks. Next to Travis, the Denobulan was the biggest snoop on Enterprise.

"Not today," Hoshi called back just as the doors closed behind them, cutting off any more remarks from Phlox.

Violet cried the whole way back to their cabin. Hoshi was beginning to wish she'd asked Phlox for a sedative for her, but the crying tapered off to an occasional sniffle and hiccup as they entered the cabin. Violet made straight for her bunk, where she sat down and grabbed her pillow, hugging it and burying her face in it.

Hoshi closed the door and turned to face her roommate. Her relief that Malcolm hadn't been seriously hurt -- or killed -- turned to anger as she listened to Violet sniffle some more.

"Get a grip, Violet!" she said vehemently, the last thread of her patience snapping.

The woman's head shot up from the pillow and she looked at Hoshi in stupification.

"I...I...can't help...it," Violet cried, the stuttering she exhibited under stress intensifying. "I could have killed him."

"Yes, you could have," Hoshi agreed. "But you didn't. It was an accident. Everyone agrees on that. So let's get over it and move on. The important thing is that your cover wasn't blown. The way you were carrying on in sickbay was so...so..."

Hoshi was so angry that she couldn't think of the right words to say. That in itself pulled her up short. Of everyone on Enterprise, she was the one who always knew what words to use. This whole situation with Violet and now Malcolm being shot had rattled her badly.

She finally settled on saying, "...so un-Starfleet-like." It wasn't a real word, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. "Whatever possessed you to handle a phase pistol?" she asked incredulously.

"Well," Violet began, wiping her eyes, "Lieutenant R...Reed thought it would be a good idea. There were some cr...crewmen in the ar...armory. They could see m...me helping him. So he showed me how to take a pistol apart and put it back together, then had me do it."

Hoshi stared at Violet's tear-streaked, guileless face. The woman had to be telling the truth. Without Malcolm encouraging her to work with a phase pistol, she never would have had the nerve to pick one up in the first place. So, depending how you wanted to look at it, Malcolm had been responsible for his own accidental shooting.

Hoshi realized that this was the best fodder for teasing Malcolm she'd had in a long time. But she'd only be able to tease him about it if they were able to survive guarding Violet. She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the headache she felt coming on.

"What do we do now?" Violet asked in a small voice.

Hoshi let out a long exhalation and plopped down on her bunk. "I'm not sure," she said. "Lieutenant Reed's not going to be in any shape to be in the armory with you the rest of the day, and you can't be on the bridge for what's left of my duty shift. Let me check with the captain."

A short time later, Hoshi wound up taking Violet to the bridge anyway. The captain wanted to see both of them.

Jon, seated in the command chair where he was reading something on a data padd, looked up at the sound of the turbolift door opening.

"In my ready room," he said in a clipped voice, getting to his feet.

Hoshi had a flashback of taking an embarrassed student to the principal's office. Violet fit the bill for being embarrassed, that was for sure. Her eyes were darting around almost as if she expected a firing squad to spring up from behind one of the consoles. At the moment, Hoshi would have loved to have been a member of such a group.

And yet, as soon as they entered the ready room, Hoshi's feelings did an immediate flip-flop. For one thing, the captain had stalked in before them instead of allowing them to go first as he usually did when he displayed his usual courteous disposition toward female crew members. The tightening around his eyes also indicated that he was not in a good mood. They were supposed to be protecting Violet from her former employers, but now Hoshi wondered if she was going to have to protect her from Jon.

He barely waited for the door to slide shut before he turned around and focused a hard stare on Violet. In a deceptively calm voice, he said, "You shot one of my officers."

Violet, standing with her hands clasped and her chin on her chest, flinched.

"You shot one of my officers," Jon repeated, this time with an edge of disbelief coming through. "What were you thinking?"

There was a long silence broken only by the soft sound of the ventilating system as Jon waited for an answer. Hoshi prudently kept her mouth shut. The captain always wanted his news from the source, and if she tried to intervene, he'd only bite her head off as well. She'd step in later, if need be.

"I...um...I..." Violet started. She swallowed and tried again. "I didn't mean to shoot him. It was an accident."

Another long silence filled the ready room.

"An accident," Jon said. "How did this accident happen?"

Violet shifted her weight, looking anywhere but at Jon, and finally settled on the view outside the window. "The pistol slipped out of my hands," she said softly. "When I tried to grab it, I must have hit the trigger."

"Oh?" Jon said sarcastically. "Why were you handling a phase pistol? Don't tell me it was my armory officer's idea?"

Violet very slowly looked away from the stars outside to lock her eyes with his. "Actually, it was."

Jon stared at her for a few moments. Having had some of the wind taken out of his sails by Violet's answer, he shifted his gaze to Hoshi for confirmation.

With a pained smile, Hoshi nodded. "I'm sure Lieutenant Reed will write a report on the incident for you, sir," she said. "After he wakes up, that is."

Jon grunted and moved over to his desk where he sat down. He picked up his coffee cup, glanced into it to find it empty, and slammed it back down on his desk.

"Uh, sir?" Hoshi spoke up. "All things considered, perhaps Violet ought to spend the rest of the day in my quarters."

Jon thought about that for a while. "No," he said at last. "We've still got to play the scenario we set up. Take her back to the armory. You stay with her. But confine yourselves to Malcolm's office. At least that way, we can maintain the illusion that 'Ensign Smith' here is working on a classified project. And it's also the securest place on the ship."

Jon got up and went over to a metal thermos sitting on top of a filing cabinet. Taking the thermos back to his desk, he poured coffee from it into his cup.

An endless day locked in a small room with Violet loomed before Hoshi. "But what about my bridge shift?" she protested. "And what possible reason could I have to spend the rest of the shift in Malcolm's office in the armory?"

"We'll get a relief officer to fill in on the bridge," Jon said smoothly. "And tell anyone who asks that there is some translation involved in what Ensign Smith is working on."

"Aye, sir," Hoshi said, shooting a disgusted glance at the other woman. So much for her day away from Violet.

Thermos in one hand and coffee cup in the other, Jon walked back over to the cabinet. He put the thermos back and then gestured with his free hand toward the door to indicate they should leave.

Hoshi, struggling to contain her dissatisfaction with this turn of events, motioned Violet to go first. Violet was just about to the door when she tripped over her own feet, stumbling into the captain and jostling the cup in his hand.

Jon sucked in his breath and plucked at his uniform front, now drenched with hot coffee.

"Sorry!" Violet said. "It was--"

"I know," Jon cut her off irritably. "An accident."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Malcolm swung his legs over the side of the biobed and sat up. His head hurt even more in this position than it did when he was lying down. He wasn't about to spend the rest of the day lounging around in sickbay, however. It didn't matter how tempting it was to use being stunned as an excuse to be away from Violet, he wasn't staying in sickbay.

He'd been shot with one of his own phase pistols -- in his own armory! He could hardly believe it.

But there was one thing of which he was one hundred percent certain -- that woman was a bloody menace.

Malcolm carefully slid off the bed, glancing about to make sure no one was around. If he could sneak out and get to the turbolift before the doctor returned from whatever errand he was on, he could hole up in his office in the armory and lick his wounds, figuratively speaking.

Besides, if he worked this right, it would only bolster his already formidable reputation among his staff. So he'd been stunned by a weapons expert. Big deal! He had been down for only a few hours and then was right back at work as if nothing had happened.

And if he was lucky, Hoshi would be stuck with Violet the rest of the day. He'd had more than enough of Violet for one day. To appease his conscience which was clamouring that he was being seriously negligent of his assignment, he decided he'd comm Hoshi when he got to his office and make sure everything was under control. If Hoshi wanted to think he was calling from sickbay, he wouldn't disabuse her of that notion.

As he let himself out of sickbay, a sly grin was on his face as he anticipated the surprised looks of his staff when he showed up in the armory.

* * *

Malcolm walked into the armory and looked around. Someone had picked up the phase pistols from the work table and put them away. That was good. He liked to keep his department tidy. 

"Sir?"

Malcolm turned to find Foster, who had been present when Violet had stunned him, gazing at him in concern.

"Should you be here?" Foster asked, coming over from a work station to stand by him.

"I work here, Foster," Malcolm said with a sardonic smile. "And it takes more than a phase pistol on stun to keep me down for long. What are you working on?"

Foster handed him a padd. "Routine maintenance of the torpedo targeting sensors."

Malcolm glanced at the screen on the padd. Everything seemed to be within acceptable parameters. Handing the padd back, he said, "Carry on," and moved off toward his office.

Once he got settled, he'd comm Hoshi in her cabin. She was probably holed up there with Violet since they believed him to be incapacitated for the rest of the day. And then after that, he would enjoy the peace and quiet of the familiar,safe environment of his office.

Or perhaps he should go back to sickbay, he thought as he opened the door to his office and saw who was inside.

Hoshi looked up calmly from where she was seated at his desk. A stifled gasp came from Violet, sitting in the other chair in his office.

Too late to alter course now -- they'd seen him. Stepping in, he shut the door behind him, aware that his headache had ratcheted up a notch. "What are you two doing here?" he asked irritably.

"The captain told us to come here," Hoshi said, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Are you all right?"

"No," he snapped. Glaring at Violet, he said, "Someone shot me with a phase pistol."

Violet opened her mouth, no doubt to apologize, but Malcolm cut her off.

"Don't say it! I know it was an accident," he said. Rubbing his forehead, he added, "I was there, remember?"

Violet made a little whimpering sound, and Malcolm's irritation lessened a bit. She really was rather helpless. He should have known better than to let her handle a phase pistol.

He must have shown some sign of how wretched he was feeling, for Hoshi sprang up from the desk chair and practically ordered him to sit down. He almost told her not to bother, but they were in his office after all, and he'd been the one who'd been shot. He sank into his chair with a grateful sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax and ease the tense muscles that were knotted at the back of his neck.

"So, since you're here now, I guess that means I can leave," came Hoshi's voice from the other side of the small office.

His eyes flew open to glare at Hoshi who was now standing by the door. She had moved so quietly that he hadn't heard her.

"Not so fast," he said evenly, and was gratified to see her slump back to lean against the door. "We need to talk."

Hoshi's gaze flicked to Violet and back to him.

"Yes, in front of Violet," he said, reading the implied question in her expression. He almost got to his feet but remembered how atrocious he felt. Putting his elbows on the desk, he steepled his hands and let his gaze roam from Hoshi to Violet and back again.

"Miss Bloom's only been here a day," he said to Hoshi, "and this situation has turned into a circus. I'm beginning to think that perhaps we should hide her away."

He shifted his gaze to Violet, who seemed heartened by his words.

"But we can't," he said, causing Violet's face to crease with worry lines again. "Any reason I can come up with for her to stay in your quarters just brings up more problems. She supposedly made a long trip to get here to do field test prep work. So why would she stay away from the place where the work is to be done?" He paused, thinking. "We could say she's taken ill, but then Phlox would be called in."

"Couldn't we tell Phlox?" Hoshi asked.

Malcolm shook his head. "Not without the captain's permission. Keep in mind Starfleet ordered us to keep Miss Bloom's presence on board as quiet as possible. Do you want to be the one to ask the captain if we can increase the number of people who know, especially since how we're handling this is your idea?" he asked Hoshi.

"Not really."

"It's an option to keep in mind," Malcolm admitted. "In the meantime, I'm willing to continue this...charade...as long as possible." He turned in his chair to face Violet. "I know this has to be very unsettling for you. But I think if you make an effort, we can still pull it off, and no one will be the wiser. Do you think you can do that?"

Violet's eyes, so wide that the whites showed around the irises, darted to his face. She must have found something to reassure her -- or bully her, Malcolm couldn't tell -- for she dropped her gaze and nodded.

"From now on," Malcolm continued, "you'll stay in this office during my duty shift. I'll be right outside in the armory. Hoshi, you can come and go as needed. Off duty, we'll put in an appearance at mealtimes in the mess hall, but other than that, you two can stay in your quarters. Are we agreed?"

Hoshi had carefully kept her expression neutral while he'd been talking, and Malcolm couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"I probably should head back up to the bridge," Hoshi said, pushing away from the door upon which she'd been leaning.

She'd probably been looking forward to her Violet-free shift, Malcolm realized, but that had fallen by the wayside in the wake of his being gunned down in his own armory. Now she was being offered an unexpected reprieve.

Her hand on the door latch, she hesitated. "But what if Phlox tracks you down and orders you back to sickbay?"

Malcolm's eyes narrowed. "He may track me down, but there's no way I'm going back to sickbay."

Hoshi seemed satisfied with that answer. He told her he'd take Violet back to their quarters at the end of his duty shift. Unfortunately, it wasn't until after Hoshi left that he remembered something he was going to ask her.

Turning to Violet as he got to his feet, he said, "I meant to ask Hoshi is she could find something for you to do in here to help pass the time. Maybe some books to read."

"I...I'd appreciate that," Violet said softly, her eyes downcast.

"Will you be all right in here by yourself for a few hours?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Fine," he said, vaguely annoyed that she wouldn't look him in the eye.

As he left, he decided he might give Foster a hand with the targeting sensors. Anything, he thought, except maintenance on the phase pistols.

* * *

Hoshi walked onto the bridge and immediately was aware of the tense atmosphere. Jon was seated in his command chair, looking in T'Pol's direction, as were most of the bridge crew. Passing by T'Pol, Hoshi glanced over at the panel behind the science console and saw a display of sensor readings on one of the screens. 

Hoshi waved away the crewman filling in for her and sat down at the communications console. Jon got out of his chair and approached her station. "Where's Ensign Smith?" he asked in a low voice.

Checking over the settings on her console, Hoshi replied softly, "She's in the armory. Malcolm is with her -- he checked himself out of sickbay." Glancing up at him, she asked, "What's going on?"

"We're picking up a sensor echo that comes and goes on the long-range scanners. It could be another ship trying to shadow us," he said. Straightening up, he added in a louder voice, "See if you can pick up anything on communications frequencies."

"Aye, sir," she said and got to work.

As Jon returned to the command well, T'Pol looked up from her console. "It's gone," she said.

Jon looked over at Hoshi, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. An unidentified sensor echo could be almost anything, but considering who their special passenger was, it could be trouble.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Hoshi detoured by the quartermaster's store when her shift was over. She'd almost forgotten she needed to get more uniforms for Violet. She figured she could make it there and back to her cabin before Malcolm showed up with Violet, but she hadn't counted on the quartermaster's curiosity from his own unique point of view.

He'd asked her why someone in Starfleet didn't bring uniforms with her. Hoshi had stared at him for a moment while she tried to come up with a convincing explanation. She wound up mumbling something about Ensign Smith losing some of her luggage in transit.

She was getting too good at telling lies, Hoshi reflected as the quartermaster handed her two uniforms in Violet's size. The quartermaster grumbled about his depleted stock but appeared to accept her answer, although she did have to listen to him complain for five minutes about resupply problems in space.

She was walking away from the quartermaster's store when the communicator she'd taken to carrying since Violet had come aboard beeped. There was only one person who knew she was carrying it, and he wouldn't contact her that way unless it was important. Apprehension formed a tight ball in her stomach. Cradling the uniforms in one arm, she pulled the communicator out of her pocket with her free hand. She flipped it open and said, "Sato."

"The alarm I rigged for your cabin just went off," Malcolm's voice came over the communicator.

"It's okay, though, because you're with her, right?" Hoshi asked.

"No. I took her back to your cabin about twenty minutes ago. Aren't you with her?"

"No," Hoshi said, breaking into a trot. "I'm going to my cabin right now. Where are you?"

"Leaving the armory on my way there," he said.

Malcolm cut the transmission before she could tell him about the unexplained sensor echo.

Coming from the armory, Malcolm would have farther to go than she did. She was going to get to her cabin first. Not being armed might present a problem, but perhaps she could stall whomever it was long enough for Malcolm to arrive.

She ruled out taking the turbolift -- too slow, and she might have to wait on a car to come to this deck. Her cabin was only one level up so she climbed a between-decks access ladder and broke into a run when she reached the top.

It could be something perfectly innocent, she told herself as she ran, the spare uniforms flapping in her arms. Maybe someone stopped by to say hello. Or maybe Violet herself had opened the door to take a peek out in the corridor for some inexplicable reason.

But there had been that echo on the sensors. It was too much of a coincidence. Until she knew for sure, she had to treat this as if it was an attempt on Violet's life.

Hoshi rounded a curve in the corridor to see Malcolm, phase pistol in hand, racing toward her from the opposite direction. They reached her cabin door at the same time.

Out of breath, Hoshi gasped, "How'd you get here so fast?"

"Emergency override on the turbolift controls," he replied shortly as he keyed in the command to open the door.

He motioned Hoshi to stand to the side as he punched one last button. The door slid open and Malcolm, phase pistol held before him, leaped inside.

The ear-splitting shriek a second later was the loudest one yet they'd heard from Violet, Hoshi thought. Whatever was being done to her must be horrible. Without a second's hesitation, Hoshi flew into the room, ready to back up Malcolm and try to save Violet's life.

Hoshi skidded to halt at the scene. Violet was sitting on her bunk like usual, the pillow once again clutched in her hands. Malcolm was standing frozen in the middle of the cabin, his pistol pointed at the intruder seated on Hoshi's bunk. The intruder, staring down the barrel of the pistol, had gone unnaturally pale.

"What are you tryin' to do, Malcolm?" Trip asked, his voice cracking. "Kill me?"

Malcolm slowly unfroze and lowered the pistol. "What are you doing in here?" he asked indignantly.

Trip frowned. "Since when is it against the law to stop by and say hello to someone?"

His anger not finding an outlet with the engineer, Malcolm whirled toward Violet. "Didn't we tell you not to open the door?"

"What the hell is goin' on?" Trip demanded as Violet, too scared to even stammer, shrank back from Malcolm.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hoshi said. Addressing the men, she said, "Would you two please quit talking in questions only?"

Flinging the extra uniforms over the back of her chair, she sat down at her desk before her shaky legs gave out. They weren't dealing with an assassination attempt after all. This could be, however, almost as bad. Violet might have been able to carry off the deception and Trip would have been none the wiser, but Malcolm's pistol-wielding arrival had effectively circumvented that outcome.

Hoshi was wondering how much they should divulge when Trip said, "She's not a weapons development expert, is she?"

Malcolm looked at Hoshi, who shrugged. She couldn't see how they were going to get around not telling Trip the truth about Violet.

Turning back to Trip, Malcolm asked, "What gave her away?"

"We were talkin', and I asked her a few questions about weapons and engineering and such. Her answers were all textbook -- exactly what you'd get in a manual. She was just parrotin' answers, if you know what I mean."

"I... I, uh," Violet stuttered, startling the others and drawing their attention. "I didn't have anything to do in the armory office, so I looked at some of the books in there. I didn't understand much, but I can recite word for word what I read."

Hoshi hung her head and Malcolm let out a muttered curse. Violet's cover had been blown by the very thing that made her such a valuable witness -- her incredible memory.

Malcolm sat down heavily on the bunk next to Trip. "I still want to know why you opened the door in the first place," he said to Violet.

"I... I thought it was Hoshi," she said. At their blank looks, she added, "Well, I screamed the last time I was in here alone and she opened the door to come in. I didn't think you'd want me to do that again, and when I thought it was her ringing the chime, I--"

Recognizing a monologue in the making, Hoshi cut her off. "--and instead of me, it was Commander Tucker, and he charmed his way in. I can see how that could have happened, Violet."

"I thought you said your name was Jane," Trip said, looking at the woman.

Violet turned wide eyes to Hoshi, who looked to Malcolm and said, "You're the ranking officer for our assignment. Make a decision. Do we tell him or not?"

Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he holstered the phase pistol with the other. "She's not in Starfleet."

"I kinda figured that out," Trip replied dryly.

"She's the star witness in the Thiera business conglomerate trial," Malcolm said.

Trip's eyes widened.

Without giving Trip time to comment, Malcolm hurried on, "There is the very real possibility that Ensign Smith's life is in danger. That's why Starfleet was asked to take her back to Earth for the trial. We are under orders to keep her presence on Enterprise a secret," he emphasized with a hard look at Trip. "Her cover is that she is a weapons development expert assigned to the ship."

Trip held up his hand. "You don't have to worry about me," he said. "I know how to keep a secret."

"I really didn't think there would be an attempt so soon," Malcolm said, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Hoshi put in, glancing at Violet and knowing what she was about to say would upset her. She told Malcolm about the unexplained sensor readings which the captain said might be another ship.

Sure enough, Violet squeezed her eyes shut and hugged the pillow tighter.

"Don't you worry," Trip hastened to reassure her, reaching across the narrow space between the bunks and patting Violet's knee. "Malcolm here is the best in the security business. Nobody's gonna get past him."

A devilish light came into Hoshi's eyes. Malcolm saw it and shot her a warning glare, which she ignored.

"So you didn't hear about Malcolm getting stunned by a phase pistol in the armory today?" Hoshi asked Trip innocently.

"Hoshi!" Malcolm said.

"You're kiddin'!" Trip said in amazement over Malcolm's protest. "How did that happen?"

"I...I did it," Violet said in a very small voice.

A huge grin broke out on Trip's face as he looked from Malcolm to Violet and back to Malcolm again. "She shot you? In the armory?"

Trying to salvage what was left of his dignity, Malcolm sought to change the subject. "If you're in on this, the least you can do is help run interference," he said to Trip.

"Sure thing. I'd be more than happy to help."

"Good," Malcolm said. "You can start this evening."

Hoshi was baffled. What was so important about this evening? And surely Malcolm didn't expect Trip to repel any intruders who might get on board. There was an entire security staff to handle something like that.

With a sly grin, Malcolm said, "We're going to have a run-in with Chef tonight at dinner."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Violet was in the center of the foursome when they went to the mess hall for dinner. Hoshi led the way and Malcolm brought up the rear. Trip walked next to Violet, putting a gentlemanly hand on her elbow when they would turn a corner.

An added bonus of Trip knowing Violet's secret, Hoshi realized, was that they should be able to sit by themselves at dinner since no more than four could be seated comfortably at a table. That ought to take care of Travis and any other curious crewmembers for this meal. Travis, for example, might come over and say a few words, but there was no way any of them would invite him to pull a chair up and join them.

Before leaving the cabin, Malcolm had told them about Chef planning to unveil his latest "creation" in Violet's honor. The whole way to the mess hall, Trip kept coming up with silly plans to head off the voluble galley tyrant. Hoshi hadn't offered any advice on how to deal with it; she was banking on Violet taking care of it in her own inimitable way -- such as dumping whatever Chef's offering was on the floor. Accidentally, of course.

There was one benefit to Trip knowing about Violet's secret identity that Hoshi hadn't foreseen. The charming Southerner seemed to put the poor woman at ease. She seemed less nervous and -- wonder of wonders -- more coordinated. She didn't stumble or bump into anyone on the way to the mess hall.

Violet was hanging on Trip's every word as he proposed one outrageous idea after another to throw Chef off her track. Hoshi just hoped she didn't have an infatuated Violet on her hands later as a consequence of her exposure to Trip.

After going through the serving line, they moved en masse to a table, with Trip still talking up a storm. It hit Hoshi that Violet may have finally found her match in Trip, not that the shy woman spoke much in public. But if Violet and Trip were ever alone, Hoshi wouldn't be surprised if Violet could out-talk the gregarious engineer.

Hoshi gave the mess hall occupants the once-over as her group sat down. She didn't see Chef, but that wasn't unusual. He rarely put in an appearance in the mess hall dining area. He was usually back in the kitchen area, directing operations with the authority of a military general.

It wasn't until they were finishing their meals that Chef popped through the galley's swinging doors. Behind him came one of his staff pushing a cart on which there was an enormous clear-glass bowl filled with some kind of white, red and pink concoction. Chef marched directly to their table, the crewman pushing the cart following dutifully behind.

"Ensign," he addressed Violet with a bow when he reached their table. "I am so happy you are here. I have spent all day laboring over this creation for you."

Violet quickly lowered her eyes, her face taking on a hue similar to whatever it was in the bowl.

Trip, who was eyeing the offering on the cart, asked, "Surely you don't expect her to eat that whole thing by herself?"

Chef favored Trip with a glare. "Of course not, you cretin. Ahem. The honor of the first serving, however, will go to the Ensign."

Sneaking a glance at the dessert, Violet stammered, "Wh...what exactly is...th...that?"

"You have the allergy to the chocolate, so I have made a variation of one of my best desserts," Chef said, spreading his arms wide. "'Death by Chocolate' is a favorite among the crew, so I substituted the strawberries for the chocolate. There is the pieces of strawberry cake, topped by the sliced strawberries, which is in turn topped by the strawberry mousse. Then the process is repeated, layer by layer, until the _piece de resistance _on the top -- one sugar-glazed, perfect strawberry. I call this 'Drowning in Strawberries.'"

"I eat any of that and I'm going to have to drown myself in a diet," Hoshi muttered, eliciting a nervous giggle from Violet.

Chef picked up a small bowl from a stack on a lower shelf on the cart and spooned some of the dessert, including the whole glazed strawberry, into it. He placed it before Violet, leaning in to murmur, "It is the least I can do for you after hearing that you are the valiant one who stunned our annoying Monsieur Reed."

Chef's comment was deliberately loud enough for the others to hear. Malcolm clamped his lips together in a tight line, Hoshi bit her lip to keep from laughing, and Trip guffawed. Violet, smiling shyly, picked up a spoon and dipped it into the dessert before her, and slowly placed the spoon in her mouth.

Chef watched closely as she tasted the dessert. "Well?" he asked. "What do you think?"

Violet swallowed, reached for her napkin, and patted her lips with it. Looking up at Chef, who was towering expectantly over her, she placed her hands on her lap and said, "I have died and gone to heaven."

Chef's mouth dropped open. Then he let out a whoop of triumph. "That is the best compliment I have ever received!"

He reached to grab Violet's hand, intending perhaps to kiss it, but Malcolm intercepted him. His fingers wrapped tightly around Chef's wrist, Malcolm said in a low voice, "The 'annoying Monsieur Reed' is telling you not to do that -- not if you want to keep that hand."

Chef was one of the few people not intimidated by the armory officer. With a sneer, he slowly peeled each of Malcolm's fingers from his wrist. Drawing himself up to his full height, he peered down his nose at Malcolm.

"I know you have a protective streak," he said haughtily, "and I will be the first to admit that there is something about the Ensign Smith that brings out the...desire...to be protective, but surely you have not already staked the claim?"

Trip and Hoshi immediately understood Chef's implication, as did Violet, who flushed brighter than the strawberries in the dessert. It took Malcolm a few more seconds to puzzle out Chef's words, and when he did, he shot up out of his chair to stand face to face with the man. "I'm just trying to get you to leave her alone!" he said through gritted teeth, poking Chef on the chest with his forefinger and forcing the man to take a step backward.

A gasp from Violet brought the confrontation to a standstill. Hoshi looked over to see Violet hiding her face in her hands. Trip slid closer to Violet, ready to pull her out of the way if a more violent confrontation should erupt.

"There!" Chef said, pointing at Violet but still talking to Malcolm. "See what you have done? You have upset her. How like you to ruin my moment!"

Having gotten in the last word, Chef turned on his heel to make a dramatic exit, but tripped on one of Violet's feet where it was sticking out in the aisle between tables. Hoshi made a futile grab for Chef but missed, and down he went, face first, in the big bowl on the cart.

Worried how this latest mishap would affect Violet, Hoshi looked from Chef who was getting back to his feet and wiping pink-colored mousse from his face, to Violet, who was peeking between her fingers. Hoshi did a double-take.

Mild-mannered, easily frightened Violet was laughing! Yes, there were tears streaming down Violet's face, but they were the kind you get from laughing too hard.

Hoshi felt a grin form on her own face. She shot a glance at Malcolm, who was watching Chef with a smirk. Finally, she looked at Trip who, apparently still under the impression that Violet was upset, was patting her shoulder.

"There, there," Trip said. "It's not every night we get entertainment after dinner."

Hoshi felt a bubble of laughter work its way up her chest and out her mouth. Before she knew it, she was laughing out loud. Violet wiped her eyes, looked up at Chef, and began laughing again. In a huff, Chef took one more swipe at the mousse on his face and shook it off his hand before stalking off.

"That was your best accident so far," Hoshi said to Violet as Malcolm sat back down.

"Who says it was an accident?" Malcolm put in smugly. "I saw there was a convenient obstacle for Chef to fall over and aimed him in that direction. The finale with his face in the dessert was just, pardon the pun, frosting on the cake."

As the others laughed again, Malcolm remarked, "That ought to make Chef keep his distance for a while."

* * *

Malcolm and Trip escorted Hoshi and Violet back to their cabin after dinner but said goodbye at the door. Once inside the cabin, Violet headed for her bunk, sat down, and picked up her pillow. This time, however, she had a wistful look on her face as she stared off into space. 

She's got it bad, Hoshi thought in amusement. Trip had that effect on a lot of women, and Violet was no exception. But maybe it would shut Violet up, giving her something to think about instead launching into one of her stream-of-consciousness ramblings that drove Hoshi crazy.

And it also seemed to have taken Violet's mind off her situation for the moment. When they'd discussed the mysterious reading that had shown up on Enterprise's sensors, Violet had gone quiet, her anxious expression giving away her thoughts. The woman was scared.

First thing in the morning, Hoshi would have to inform the captain that Trip had joined their small circle protecting Violet. Jon couldn't possibly be mad. That Trip had figured out most of the situation on his own had been an accident.

An accident? There was that word again!

As she started to get ready for a long evening cooped up with Violet, she wondered what type of accident was going to befall Trip because of his acquaintance with the klutzy witness.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

The mysterious sensor echo didn't make a reappearance, and while they didn't know what it was, Hoshi couldn't help but think it had something to do with Violet.

Several days of shipboard routine passed in relative quiet with no major incidents. There also hadn't been any major accidents, although there had been an assortment of mild injuries all attributable to Violet to some degree or another. Trip had grabbed for a plate Violet had bobbled in the mess hall and had burned himself when two of his fingers slid into the hot gravy on her mashed potatoes. Jon had given himself a nasty cut on his forehead when, in his surprise when Hoshi told him about Malcolm bursting in on Trip and Violet at gunpoint, he had forgotten to duck as he was pacing in his ready room and had cracked his head on one of the support struts.

And Malcolm now had matching bruises on his cheeks. In addition to the one he'd gotten when he'd fallen after he'd been stunned, yesterday Violet had opened the door to his office and had smacked him in the face as he was approaching from the other side. With the vivid black-and-blue marks just under his eyes, Hoshi thought he looked a bit like a raccoon.

Hoshi considered herself lucky that the only thing Violet had inflicted on her were meandering vocal ramblings. It had taken her a while to realize that she didn't really need to respond to Violet when she was in a talkative mood. She could continue to concentrate on whatever it was she was doing if, detecting a pause on Violet's part, she responded with "Is that so?" or some other noncommittal statement.

The only time Hoshi's new-found serenity in dealing with her roommate was threatened was early one evening when she had returned to the cabin from her duty shift. Violet had been reading a novel on a padd when Hoshi went in the bathroom to put on some civvies, but when she came out she found her roommate playing with her bunny slippers.

"Those are off limits," Hoshi said as she snatched them from Violet, who had inserted a hand in each slipper and was making them hop up and down on the end of her bunk.

"Sorry!" Violet said.

Hoshi put the slippers back where they belonged -- on the deck with their little bunny faces and ears poking out from underneath the end of her bunk. She looked up, intending to tell Violet to keep out of her stuff, but the sad expression on Violet's face stopped her.

"I didn't mean to make you mad," Violet said. "It's just...I'm bored to tears."

Resisting the obvious response that Violet was easily moved to tears, no matter what the situation, Hoshi said, "I suppose there's not much to do in the armory. But what about all those novels I downloaded onto a padd for you?"

Violet gave her a crooked smile. "I speed read. I finished them. And to tell you the truth, I'm rather tired of reading."

Hoshi bit her lip. They'd agreed it would be best to stay in her quarters, but she was getting a bit of cabin fever herself.

"Tell you what," Hoshi said, moving over to the comm panel. "Let me check first with Lieutenant Reed to see if he thinks it's okay, and if he does, we'll take a jaunt down to the gym and do some exercise."

"I'd rather visit Engineering," Violet said hopefully. "That nice Commander Tucker said he'd give me a tour if I wanted."

Engineering was a dangerous enough place without accident-prone Violet stumbling around in it. Hoshi could only imagine what might happen if Trip gave Violet a tour there. "Don't push it," she said, adding severely, "We're supposed to be protecting you, not running a dating service."

Violet's hopeful expression fell and a slight blush tinged her cheeks. Hoshi realized she was taking out her own frustration on the other woman, and relented.

"Maybe Commander Tucker will be in the gym," she said. "Lots of times he works out right after his shift before going to dinner. Why don't you get in some civvies and we'll head that way, provided Lieutenant Reed gives us the green light?"

Violet jumped up from the bed, hurried to the closet, and grabbed a pair of casual pants and a T-shirt. Heading for the bathroom door, she spun around, a big smile on her face, and said, "This is going to be fun!"

Hoshi wasn't so sure about that. But at least they'd be getting out of the cabin for a while.

* * *

When Hoshi had comm'd him to see if he thought it was permissible to take Violet to the gym, Malcolm's first inclination was to say no. But something in Hoshi's voice informed him she needed this break as much as Violet did. He'd told her to go ahead, but that he'd be joining them.

Not that he wanted to. He'd already spent the whole working day with Violet...in a way. She'd been in his office the entire shift, just as she had the past several days. The only time he'd let her out had been for lunch or when he'd had to escort her back to Hoshi's cabin. He had been out in the main armory most of the time, but he was very aware of his duty to protect her, and that she was very close by, sitting in his office reading some tawdry romance novel that Hoshi had downloaded for her.

Plus, with Violet in his office, he wasn't about to spend any time in there he didn't have to. His workplace sanctuary had effectively been taken away from him, and his staff was feeling the brunt of his dissatisfaction as he constantly looked over their shoulders as they went about their jobs.

Entering the gym, he saw Hoshi and Violet by the weight station. Hoshi was instructing the other woman on the proper way to use weights. Violet had what looked to be a five-pound barbell in each hand and was working on alternating curls.

Malcolm prudently stopped a safe distance away and waited as Violet finished her set. It had only taken being stunned and two bruised cheeks for him to learn his lesson. Sure enough, just as he anticipated, when Violet looked up and saw him, she was startled enough that she dropped both barbells.

Hoshi, he noted sourly, seemed to be immune to Violet's accidental tendencies. The barbells hit the padded deck a good meter from her.

At least Violet didn't try to apologize. She just smiled weakly and bent over to pick up the weights.

"Maybe you'd be more comfortable doing something else," Hoshi suggested tactfully. "How about the treadmill or one of the exercise bikes?"

"One of the bikes, maybe," Violet said, and put the barbells back on the rack.

As the women went by him, Malcolm gave Hoshi a smirk. Better her than him, he thought. He'd put on some boxing gloves and have a go at the punching bag. He could keep an eye on Violet while he was doing that. He went over to the locker where the gloves were kept and was taking out a pair in his size when Trip walked into the gym.

Malcolm could see Violet's face light up from across the room. Uh-oh, he thought. Trip's got another female admirer -- and a potentially dangerous one at that. He pulled the gloves on, looking forward to seeing what exactly would befall Trip in Violet's proximity. The engineer was already wearing bandages on his two burned fingers, but he still had another perfectly good arm and two good legs that Violet could maim.

"Hey!" Trip said as he walked over to where Violet was sitting on one of the bikes. "What's goin' on?"

Hoshi straightened up from where she was trying to adjust the tension on the wheel. "Nothing yet." Addressing Violet, she said, "Try it again."

Violet began pedaling and Hoshi leaned forward to look at the resistance meter on the handlebars. Hoshi shook her head and motioned for Violet to stop pedaling, and said, "I just can't seem to get it set right."

"Let me try," Trip said. When the wheel stopped turning, he fiddled with one of the connections near the spokes' hub. "Sometimes this thing gets loose and doesn't--Ow!"

Malcolm made sure the punching bag was between him and the others. It wouldn't do for Trip to see him laughing at his pain. But the other man should have known better. Right when Trip had stuck his hand -- the undamaged one -- between the spokes, Violet had shifted on the bike. Her feet were on the pedals, which had moved, which in turn had started the wheel spinning. Trip would be lucky if he got away with only pinched fingers.

Malcolm peeked out from behind the punching bag to see Trip sucking on his newest batch of injured fingers and waving Violet away with his other hand as she hopped off the bike, trying to apologize. Unfortunately, her foot caught on one of the pedals and pulled the bike over on her. She fell into Trip, and they and the bike went down like a row of dominoes.

As the sounds of the metallic crash and thud of bodies hitting the deck died away, Malcolm stepped out from behind the punching bag and went over to the scene of the accident, stripping off the boxing gloves as he walked.

Hoshi was staring in bemusement at the tangle of bodies and bike on the deck. "I don't think I'd believe that if I hadn't seen it. Are you two all right?"

On his back where he'd fallen with Violet sprawled sideways across his stomach, Trip groaned. He let out a string of curses, ending with, "I think one of my fingers is broken."

Violet issued a muffled sob. Her hand on Trip's chest, she pushed herself up to her hands and knees, causing him to grunt as the air was forced out of his lungs. Still on hands and knees, she scooted away from him, and somehow managed to kneel on his burned fingers. Trip yelped at this newest infliction of pain, and Violet broke out in a round of inarticulate apologies.

Hoshi gently pulled Violet away from Trip, and Malcolm went to help his friend get up. Mindful of Trip's damaged fingers, he didn't off him a hand up, but rather got his arms under Trip's and hoisted him to his feet.

Trip swayed for a moment before gaining his balance. He held both hands up before his face, looking from the one with bandaged digits to the other with one very obviously bent finger. He turned an incredulous stare on Violet where she was watching apprehensively from the shelter of Hoshi's protective arm.

"Lady, you don't need to worry about anybody tryin' to kill you," Trip spluttered. "You'll get them first."


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Hoshi brought Violet straight back to her cabin from the gym while Malcolm took Trip to sickbay. Considering Violet's talent for causing accidents and Trip's own natural ability to get into trouble, it wouldn't have been a smart move for the women to tag along to sickbay. There was no telling what else Violet could do to Trip, and Hoshi didn't want to have to explain to the captain why their chief engineer was dead.

Malcolm comm'd Hoshi later to say that Doctor Phlox had wound up re-bandaging Trip's burned fingers as well as splinting the broken one. Trip would be able to report to work the next day -- he just wouldn't be able to use his hands very well.

News of a mishap like Trip's traveled fast among gossip-hungry starship crew members. Hoshi wasn't up to facing the questions that would be sure to greet them in the mess hall at dinner, much less deflecting them from Violet. So she sweet-talked Chef into sending them dinner to her cabin. It wasn't difficult. All she had to do was tell him that Violet was too embarrassed to come to the mess hall to eat. So what if egotistical Chef had assumed Violet was upset about tripping him into the dessert? What Chef didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

And she hadn't really lied to Chef. Violet was terribly embarrassed. She had a huge crush on Trip and look what she'd done to him.

At the least, Violet's introspective mood made for a nice change of pace. She hardly uttered a word the rest of the evening. Hoshi enjoyed the quiet even as she worried about how to make Violet feel better.

She tried to get Violet to talk about it after they ate, but the other woman said she was tired and was going to turn in. Hoshi went to bed a short time later, hoping that after a good night's sleep, Violet would be in a better frame of mind in the morning.

* * *

Hoshi opened her eyes. She wasn't sure what had woken her. She lifted her head to look over at her roommate, but in the darkened cabin could only make out the outline of blankets over a body on the bunk. Gentle snores coming from the other bunk assured her Violet was there. 

Hoshi put her head back on the pillow, only to hear the comm panel chirp. Climbing out of bed, she glanced at the chronometer. It must have been a previous chirp from the comm that had pulled her from her slumber, but who needed to talk to her at 0200?

She padded barefoot over to her desk and pushed a button. "Sato," she said sleepily.

"Ensign," came T'Pol's voice. "The sensor echo has returned, and it is closing on our position."

Hoshi instantly was wide awake. "Does Lieutenant Reed know?"

"Yes. He's on his way to your cabin to escort Ensign Smith to the armory."

That answers that question, Hoshi thought as T'Pol cut the connection. She had been wondering if they should stay in her cabin. She turned away from the desk to find Violet sitting up in bed.

"What's going on?" Violet asked, her voice groggy with sleep.

"The sensor echo is back," Hoshi said, "and it's headed toward us. It might be nothing, but no sense taking any chances." She turned on the light. "Get dressed. We're going to the armory as soon as Lieutenant Reed gets here."

She heard Violet gulp, but the woman quickly got out of bed.

* * *

Malcolm checked the charge on his phase pistol before leaving his quarters. He had to go down one deck to Hoshi's cabin, then they'd have to hustle to make it to the armory before whatever it was out there was close enough to do anything. 

He'd been expecting some sort of attack on Violet, but he didn't think anyone with Earth connections -- which included the Theira business conglomerate -- would be stupid enough to try to destroy a Starfleet vessel. The repercussions would be too severe. No, this wouldn't be a hit-and-run type assault; rather, he expected a boarding party would try to snatch or kill Violet.

They were going to have to get by him first, he thought grimly as he exited the turbolift on C deck and trotted toward Hoshi's cabin.

He was pleased to find the women were dressed and waiting for him when he got there. Hoshi appeared concerned but alert. Violet looked like she usually did -- on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

They didn't speak as they left Hoshi's cabin. The silence continued during the turbolift ride and the short walk to the deserted armory. Malcolm went right to the weapons locker. He pulled out a phase pistol, put a power cell in it, and handed the gun to Hoshi. He hesitated, his hand hovering over another pistol, and looked at Violet. No, she'd probably wind up shooting him again, he decided, and withdrew his hand and slammed the door closed on the locker.

"Into my office with you two," he said.

"What about you?" Hoshi asked as she took an unprotesting Violet by the arm and started to lead her toward the office.

"I'll be out here, monitoring what's happening on the bridge," he said. "That should let us know of any attack or attempt to transport someone on board."

He climbed the short ladder to the elevated station overlooking the main armory and entered commands on the control panel there. Several screens lit up. One was a tie-in to the bridge and showed the same sensor readings that would be under scrutiny by the captain and T'Pol. The mysterious echo was still too far away to tell exactly what it was, but it was definitely getting closer.

* * *

Jon was standing in the command well in front of T'Pol's station as she gazed into her scanner's viewscreen. T'Pol had shifted her schedule so that she had been in charge of the night watch since their special passenger had come on board. Now it looked liked that precaution had paid off. She'd informed him immediately of the sensor echo's reappearance as well as alerting Malcolm to protect Violet. The late shift may not have been so quick to react, thereby losing valuable time to prepare for an attack. 

"Getting definite readings from the object now," said T'Pol. "Spherical. No more than two meters in diameter. No lifesigns." She lifted her face from the scanner and looked at him. "It may be an unmanned probe or reconnaissance craft."

A beep from the communications console caught their attention. The crewman manning that station said, "It's sending a signal."

"What is it?" Jon asked, moving over to sit down in his command chair.

The crewman shook his head as he fiddled with buttons on the console, and Jon wished Hoshi was on the bridge. "Tie in the UT," Jon ordered, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

* * *

In the armory, Malcolm was eavesdropping on what was happening on the bridge. He reached over to the internal comm panel, pushed a button, and said, "Hoshi! Get out here. We're picking up a signal from that thing." 

The door to his office opened and Hoshi stepped out, followed by a wary Violet. They made their way to the elevated platform and climbed the ladder. Hoshi peered at the readouts and asked, "Can you put the signal on audio?"

Malcolm flicked a switch, and repetitive beeping and clicking sounds came over the speakers. Hoshi tilted her head to the side, listening, then quickly keyed in some commands to the ship's database and checked the information that popped up on one of the screens. She listened to the signal for a few moments longer and sighed.

"I don't believe it," she said.

"What?" Malcolm asked.

"It's a primitive binary code," she said. "My guess is we're being contacted by a satellite of some pre-warp society, similar to long-range satellites Earth sent out in the 20th century. You know -- 'We come in peace' and so forth."

"Are you sure?" Malcolm asked, not yet ready to let down his guard.

Hoshi leaned her hip against the console and crossed her arms over her chest. "Communications officers study this sort of thing in Starfleet training," she said. "They wanted us to be able to recognize friendly overtures of other species. We better let the bridge know."

As Malcolm called the bridge and relayed the information, Hoshi stepped over to where Violet was standing. The woman had been white as a sheet, but now a little color was beginning to seep back into her complexion.

"It's all right. We can go back to my cabin," Hoshi said, glacing over at Malcolm to see him nodding in agreement at her statement.

As they climbed down the ladder, Violet asked shakily, "Does this happen a lot? I mean, coming across unknown things in space?"

Hoshi smiled. "Not a lot, but often enough to keep us on our toes."

Violet made a noise that sounded like a whimper, and Hoshi sighed. They still had a week to go before reaching Earth.

It wasn't until they were almost all the way back to the cabin that Hoshi realized Violet hadn't made one klutzy move during the entire incident.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Jon, after a hushed consultation with T'Pol, decided to ignore the the alien satellite. He regretted that they might be missing a first-contact opportunity with a new civilization, but their orders to bring Violet Bloom, a.k.a. Ensign Jane Smith, to Earth precluded any delays. Perhaps once they finished this assignment, they could return and try to find the probe again.

Finding it might be tricky. According to T'Pol, the probe had indeed shadowed them for a few days before approaching. That might be indicative of caution by the makers of the device, who may have wanted to ensure that a potential contact wasn't hostile. Sensing no apparent danger, it had finally approached Enterprise, but when it didn't receive a response after an hour or so, it had abruptly changed course and went on its way.

All things considered, they'd gotten off easy. He and a few of the crew -- notably Malcolm and Hoshi and "Ensign Smith" -- had only lost a little sleep. The encounter hadn't been anything to do with their passenger.

But Jon also knew the crew was wondering why they hadn't attempted contact since that was a primary objective of their being out in space to begin with. The crew would just have to wonder.

That the probe had approached them during shipboard nighttime had been fortunate. According to Malcolm, his mad dash to the armory with Violet and Hoshi hadn't been observed by anyone. If it had, it would have led to more curiosity about their passenger.

Leaving the bridge under T'Pol's care, Jon returned to his cabin, hoping to get a little more sleep before the morning came.

* * *

The alarm clock roused Hoshi from a sound sleep. She looked blearily over at the other bunk to see Violet was already up and dressed.

When they'd returned to the cabin in the wee hours of the morning and had gone back to bed, Violet had tossed and turned in her bunk. Hoshi sympathized. It was always hard to get back to sleep after you'd been rudely woken by a possible crisis in the middle of the night. Once the excitement was over, it still took a while for the adrenaline rush to wear off.

But it looked like Violet hadn't gone back to sleep at all. That explained why Hoshi hadn't been disturbed by snoring and had been able to make the most of her few remaining hours of sleep.

Hoshi quickly showered and dressed, and the two women headed for the mess hall. The conversations of crew members flowed around them in the serving line. The topic of interest this morning was the encounter with the alien probe. Hoshi grateful for that. With a new subject to talk about, no one appeared the least interested in Violet.

They were sitting down at a table when Malcolm and Trip entered the mess hall. Trip was hampered by his injured fingers as he went through the serving line, and had to have Malcolm put food on his plate. The men joined Hoshi and Violet at their table, Trip taking the seat across from Violet rather than the one next to her. That was as far away from her as he could get at the small table.

Violet wouldn't meet Trip's eyes as they began to eat. Hoshi hurriedly leaned over and cut up the slab of ham Trip had with his fried eggs before Violet could offer to do it. Violet with a knife in her hand was not something Hoshi wanted to contemplate.

No one spoke as they concentrating on eating, but Hoshi was sure her roommate would apologize once more to Trip for the debacle in the gym. Either that, or she'd accidentally hurt him again. Hoshi waited to see what it would be -- apology or injury.

A few minutes later she was found out she was half right -- it was an apology, but it came from Trip.

"Listen, 'Jane,'" he began softly after a quick look around for potential eavesdroppers. "I'm sorry I yelled at you last night in the gym. I shouldn't have done that."

Violet's head shot up and she stared at him, blinking as a sudden sheen appeared in her eyes. "You had every right to yell at m...me," she said. "I...I hurt you."

"But I know it was an accident," Trip said, giving her one of his most charming smiles. "Nobody could be that klutzy on purpose." He grimaced, realizing he'd just stuck his foot in his mouth.

Hoshi winced at the unintentional affront but Violet appeared not to realize she'd been insulted. Hoshi glanced at Malcolm and he rolled his eyes. She quickly shifted her gaze to Violet to see if she'd picked up on Malcolm's reaction, but the woman was looking adoringly at Trip, oblivious to the byplay between the other two people at the table.

Or was she? Violet suddenly crossed her legs, and her foot smacked Malcolm in the knee. The tactical officer, his mouth full, grunted and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You OK, Malcolm?" Trip asked, having missed the under-the-table collision.

Malcolm swallowed, opened his eyes, and cleared his throat. "I'm fine," he squeaked. Turning to glare at Violet, he said in a lower, dangerous tone, "I think we're about done here. Let's get a move on, Ensign."

Malcolm got to his feet. Since she was going with him to the armory, Violet had no choice but to follow suit. Trip was still gazing at Malcolm in concern, so Hoshi was the only one who saw the slight smirk that crossed Violet's features as she got to her feet to hurry after Malcolm.

* * *

Malcolm had been certain if any accidents were to occur at breakfast, they'd involve Trip. After all, Violet was infatuated with the man. What was that old saying? You only hurt the ones you love?

He could hear Violet's footsteps behind him as he walked down the corridor. It was all he could do not to limp. The last thing he wanted was to give her a reason to break out in a round of pathetic apologies.

As they rounded a curve in the corridor on the way to the turbolift, Jon was approaching from the opposite end. Porthos, his tail wagging and his nose twitching, was trotting along at Jon's heels.

Malcolm nodded in acknowledgment of Jon's greeting and kept walking, anxious to get to the armory and get Violet locked up -- er, properly squared away in his office -- so that he could get on with his usual routine without fear of another injury. He was beginning to think his weapons were safer to be around than Violet.

He glanced back to make sure Violet was following, and sighed.

The woman was frozen with her back up against a bulkhead, staring with wide eyes at the beagle prancing around her feet. Not only was she accident-prone, Malcolm realized as he retraced his steps, but she was afraid of dogs. So much for asking the captain to allow him to "borrow" Porthos to keep Violet company in his office.

"He won't hurt you," the captain was saying. "He's very friendly."

"Th--that's...n--nice," Violet stuttered.

Jon leaned down to pull the dog away just as Violet gathered her courage and bent to pat Porthos on the head. Of course Jon and Violet knocked their heads together. As they staggered a step away from each other, Jon grunted, Violet whimpered, and Porthos, thinking his master was being attacked, began barking furiously.

"Stop that, boy!" Jon said, reaching down again and picking up the dog. Straightening, he shot one last glance at Violet who was mumbling apologies. With a curt, "No, it was my fault," he strode off down the corridor, the dog wiggling in his grasp.

Malcolm had kept his distance during the encounter. He was more than happy to let it play out without becoming involved or becoming a victim. As the captain disappeared around a curve in the corridor, he motioned for Violet to continue toward the turbolift.

"I can't help it," she said with a look of chagrin. "I'm more of a cat person."

* * *

When Jon arrived some time later on the bridge, Hoshi was at her station. He headed for his ready room, and he caught her eye and jerked his head to indicate she should come with him.

As soon as the door to his ready room closed, he got right to business. "How'd our guest take that incident last night?"

Hoshi shrugged. "Not too badly. She was scared, but that's to be expected. She seems all right this morning."

Rubbing his forehead where he'd cracked skulls with Violet, he said ruefully, "It's a good thing it's only another week until we deliver her. From what I've heard, she could probably incapacitate the entire crew, given enough time."

"You heard about Trip?" Hoshi couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice as the image of Trip and Violet going down in a tangle under the exercise bike sprang into her mind.

"Doctor Phlox told me last night that he'd splinted one of Trip's fingers," Jon said. "It took a little prying to find out exactly how it happened." He shook his head. "And with those bruises on his face, Malcolm looks like he just came off the rugby field. So far, I've been lucky, but then, I'm not around her very much." Raising his eyebrows as he looked at Hoshi, he added, "And I intend to keep it that way."

"Understood, sir," she said, unable to hide a smile. "I'll keep her away from you."

The beep of the comm sounded in the ready room. Pushing a button on his desk, Jon said, "Archer."

"We're picking up a distress call," came T'Pol's voice.

"I'll be right out," he said. Looking at Hoshi, he said, "We can't ignore a distress call. It takes priority over any other mission we might have. Let's just hope it's nothing serious and we can get back on our way to Earth without too much of a delay."

Archer got to his feet and they went to the door. Before leaving, however, he stopped and looked at Hoshi and said, "Let Malcolm know about this latest development. We don't want him barricading himself and our passenger in the armory unless it's absolutely necessary."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: It took me a little longer than usual to get this chapter posted, but I've got valid excuses. Really, I do! I've been sick (ok, everyone uses that excuse) but it's not fair to come down with two head colds in quick succession. Also, I've had some distractions -- which just happen to go by the same names as my children and husband. Arrggh! Don't they understand the creative process requires at least a tiny bit of peace and quiet!

Anyway, thanks to those reading this, and I hope to have the story finished up in a just a few more chapters.

CHAPTER 13

The Bottom Line was a small craft as space-faring vessels go. A private transport that could carry up to a dozen people, it had suffered an engine malfunction as it was on its way to Earth.

"I really don't know how to thank you, Captain Archer," said the human male on the viewscreen of Enterprise's bridge. "We've never had a problem with the engine before. I'd be grateful for any help you could give us."

"That's one of the reasons we're out here, Captain Macklin," Jon said pleasantly. "We'll dock with you. Then our chief engineer can come over. Hopefully he can get it fixed and you'll be back on your way." He paused, shooting a glance at Hoshi over at the communications station. He knew they were both thinking that if they weren't tied up here too long, they could still get Violet to Earth on schedule. Looking back at the screen, he added with a smile, "Without too much of a delay."

Enterprise began moving toward the smaller vessel, aiming to align their outer hatches. Jon called down to Engineering to tell Trip that his services were needed aboard the other ship. Shortly thereafter, a light lit up on T'Pol's console. "We've docked with them," she said.

* * *

Feeling that he should inform Violet of the delay, Malcolm walked into his office to find her sitting at his desk. She was engrossed with something she was doing with a data padd. 

"Writing your last will and testament?" he asked, and immediately was ashamed of himself. Yes, she'd been responsible for his bruises but they were starting to fade, and his knee had quit throbbing. All his injuries at her hands had been the products of accidents, and just because she was uncoordinated was no reason to be vindictive.

Violet either didn't pick up on his sarcasm or chose to ignore it. "Actually," she said distractedly, still inputting on the device, "I'm writing down some things. I have a perfect memory, but just in case..." Her voice trailed off.

_She gets killed, _Malcolm finished the sentence in his head and now really felt like a cad, especially since she seemed to be taking the possibility of her own demise much more calmly than he would have expected.

She finished her task and clicked off the padd. "Maybe I should give this to the captain for safekeeping?" she asked, biting her lip.

Reaching over, Malcolm took the padd from her. "That's a good idea. I'll see that he gets it," he said as he slid the padd into one of his pockets.

He stood there for a few moments until her puzzled expression reminded him why he'd come into the office in the first place.

"I just wanted to let you know that we've dropped out of warp to assist another ship that's having engine trouble," he said. "Hopefully Commander Tucker will be able to put it to rights and we'll be back on our way in no time."

She ducked her head, a strand of her hair falling to hide her face. "Thank you. I...I appreciate you telling me."

She was back in embarrassed mode, Malcolm realized, watching her drum her fingers on the desktop. Chef had been right about one thing -- there was something about Violet that made you want to protect her. Or maybe feel sorry for her. Whatever the reason, he suddenly knew she had spent more than enough time alone in his office.

"Would you like to come out in the armory for a while?" he asked.

She peaked at him from under lowered lashes. "Will there be phase pistols involved?"

"No!'

* * *

"It's a beautiful little engine," Trip said as he gazed at the compact yet powerful engine nestled in its own small compartment at the rear of The Bottom Line. 

Macklin shook his head and tugged on his loose jacket. "Usually it gets us where we want to go," he said with a friendly smile. "I have no idea what's wrong with it. I just fly this thing -- I don't fix it. Contract work, don't you know?"

Moving over to check the control settings, Trip was impressed by the cleanliness of the small engine compartment. Whoever did the work on it sure took good care of it. It shouldn't be too hard to track down the problem.

"I talked to your captain," Macklin continued. "He said it would be all right if my passengers went over to your ship for a break while we work on this. They're getting tired of being cooped up here. They'd be underfoot anyway. If you don't mind, I'll see them over, grab something to eat myself, and be right back."

Trip nodded agreeably and the other man left the compartment. He could hear Macklin and the passengers moving to the airlock. There had only been four people in the passenger seating area, which struck him as rather odd since the little ship could carry three times that many. This trip sure wasn't making any money for the owners of The Bottom Line.

Removing one of the cover panels on the side of the engine, he soon became wrapped up in the mechanics of the problem before him.

Meanwhile, an Enterprise crewmen met Captain Macklin and his passengers at the airlock. After welcoming them aboard, he led them to the mess hall where they could stretch their legs and have some refreshments. The crewman didn't see the last person in the group sneak off as soon as his back was turned.

* * *

Hoshi almost missed it. She was looking up at the viewscreen, which was showing an outside view of the ship with which they were docked, when a light flashed briefly on her communications panel. She caught the flicker in her peripheral vision. 

Frowning, she hit a few buttons. "That's odd," she murmured.

"What is odd, Ensign?" T'Pol asked.

"Someone's accessed the main computer."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "There is nothing odd about that. Members of the crew access the computer for a number of reasons."

"But this was someone who didn't have the authority to get into whatever it was they were looking for," Hoshi explained. "Usually they contact the bridge or have a superior officer get the information they are looking for in those cases."

T'Pol thought for a moment. "What were they looking for?"

Hoshi pushed a few more buttons, checked the readout, and looked over at T'Pol in alarm. "Two things. First, if we're carrying any civilians. After that, the crew roster. Specifically, if there is anyone by the name of Violet Bloom on board."

* * *

Trip was puzzled. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with the engine. It just wouldn't start. He'd run the built-in diagnostic program and everything was the way it was supposed to be. 

He stuck his head into the passenger area to see if Macklin had returned, but the compartment was empty. He really could use Macklin's help with this. The Bottom Line's captain could keep an eye on the helm console as Trip ran through the diagnostic again and let him know if anything showed up there.

Trip debated running the diagnostic again but thought it would be a waste of time without someone monitoring the helm controls. Casting a glance at the airlock access, he decided he'd take a look at the helm himself while he was waiting on Macklin.

The helm was in its own compartment, separated from the passenger area by a bulkhead with a door. He entered the area and sat down in the plush pilot's chair, grinning as he wondered what the reaction would be if he installed a cushy model like this one for Jon on the bridge. His gaze skimmed over the controls. With the engine powered down, there wasn't much to see. He might as well go back to the engine compartment, start another diagnostic, and hope Macklin came back soon.

He was getting out of the chair when something sticking out from under the console caught his eye. He sat back down and leaned over for a better look. It looked like a cutoff switch had been installed right under the engine start-up controls, but out of sight from anyone other than the pilot.

Trip straightened up, a sudden suspicion worrying him.

* * *

Malcolm was calling out the names of items as he went through the storage lockers in the armory, and Violet was marking them off the manifest list on a padd. He hated taking inventory, but he thought at last he'd found something totally innocuous that could keep both of them occupied -- with no possibility of bodily harm to himself. 

Actually, Violet was rather good at this. She'd caught a couple of items that were listed but nowhere to be found, and she'd also noted a couple of things that had been listed twice. With abilities like that, she must have made an excellent secretary in a busy business office.

They were getting ready to start on the last storage locker when the comm beeped. Excusing himself, Malcolm moved over to the panel. "Reed here."

"Someone just tried to get into the computer to check whether we have any passengers on board," he heard Hoshi say.

"Do you know who it was?" he asked as Violet came over to stand by him.

"I don't think it was any of the crew," Hoshi said. "We do have some visitors on board right now. The passengers from The Bottom Line are in the mess hall."

Reed heard Violet suck in her breath, and he glanced inquiringly at her.

"The Bottom Line is one of the ships used by the Thiera business group," she said, "but it could be a coincidence. It's a hired charter."

"I'm going to send some of my men to the mess hall to keep an eye on them," Reed said into the comm. "How many people came over?"

"Five," came Hoshi's answer, "including the captain. A man by the name of Macklin."

"Oh, no," Violet murmured.

* * *

Trip walked back through the passenger compartment. He had his hand on the latch for the airlock when the door suddenly slid open. Captain Macklin stood there. 

"Uh, I was just goin' back to get some tools I think I might need," Trip said, giving the man a nervous smile.

Macklin smiled in return, but there was nothing nervous about it. "I don't think so."

"Really," Trip said. "I've got a new microcaliper that would be handy--

Macklin pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket to reveal a phase pistol. "We both know the engine doesn't need to be fixed. Either you're a very poor engineer, which I seriously doubt since you're on a Starfleet vessel, or you're trying to find an excuse to leave."

Trip gulped and backed up a few steps as Macklin waved the pistol at him.

"I have no quarrel with you," Macklin said, turning slightly so he could lock the door while keeping the pistol trained on Trip. "We'll just have to wait until my 'passengers' come back."

* * *

The man who had snuck off from the rest of the passengers couldn't keep the computer from reporting his intrusion into its database. He'd quickly backed out of the particular program he was trying to access as soon as he realized he'd tripped the security protocols. It was only a momentary incursion, and there was a good chance no one had caught the unauthorized inquiry. 

Luckily, he had found what he was looking for. Although there was no Violet Bloom listed as a passenger, there was one crew member who had come aboard Enterprise only in the last week. It had to be her.

He checked the charge on his mini-phase pistol and quietly left the storage area where he'd accessed the main computer. According to the crew roster, Ensign Jane Smith was a weapons development expert. She was going to get some up-close experience with a weapon very shortly, the man thought with a hard smile as he began stealthily making his way toward the most likely place to check first -- the armory.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Malcolm comm'd Ensign Foster, telling him to go to the mess hall and keep an eye on the group from The Bottom Line. After that, the tactical officer efficiently instituted lock-down procedures in the armory. As he moved away from the upper level control panel to the weapons' locker where the phase pistols were stored, he heard Violet take a deep breath before following him.

It was just his luck that the attempt on her life would come when none of his staff was in the armory. He was her last line of defense. On the plus side, however, he and Violet _were_ in the armory. It was his turf, and he knew how to protect it.

"Who's Macklin?" he asked as he yanked the locker door open and pulled out a phase pistol.

"I've never met him," Violet said as she watched him put a power cell in the pistol and checked the charge. "But his was one of the names on a list in the file I got into. He received large payments at irregular intervals."

Malcolm glanced at her. "What did he do to receive such payments?"

Violet met his gaze steadily. "I'm not sure, but I think I can guess. After each payment was the notation 'problem terminated'... I think he killed people."

Malcolm's features hardened as he snapped the hinged cover back into place over the pistol's power cell. "And now he's here on Enterprise."

* * *

Foster was puzzled. Lieutenant Reed had told him there were five people in the party that had come over from the other ship, but he saw only four. He and another security officer had arrived at the mess hall in time to hear The Bottom Line's captain tell the other three he was going back to the ship to help with repairs. A slight jerk of Foster's head had sent his fellow officer off to follow the man, just in case.

So, here he was, trying not to appear too obvious, as he watched the three people relax and partake of some refreshments around one of the tables in the mess hall. They didn't look like they were in any hurry to leave. He was about to step out into the corridor to discreetly contact his superior when a voice startlingly close to his ear almost made him jump.

"Are you just going to stand there or you going to eat something? That is why most people come to my mess hall, you know."

Foster hated it when Chef snuck up on you like that. For a large man, he sure could move quietly. Of course, in his own defense, Foster's attention had been on something else at the time.

"Not now, Chef," Foster said softly, hoping the galley master wouldn't make him his latest spectacle. To say Chef had a flair for the dramatic was an understatement. He'd been present for the strawberry dessert fiasco the other night.

"Are you ill?" Chef asked, suddenly solicitous.

Foster, seeing the three men at the table looking in his direction, ducked his head and said quietly, "Could I see you in the galley for a minute?"

"_Certainement_," Chef said, and gestured for Foster to go that way.

As soon as the doors to the galley swished shut behind them, Foster glanced around to make sure no one was near, then said, "I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on those people out in the mess hall for Lieutenant Reed."

Chef frowned. "I know the lieutenant is always the paranoid, but that seems extreme even for him."

Foster, anxious to get back to his duty, shifted on the balls of his feet. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but Lieutenant Reed's locked down the armory. He's in there with Ensign Smith." At Chef's upraised eyebrow, Foster quickly added, "I think he thinks someone is after her."

A volley of questions burst forth from the voluble Chef, his French accent becoming more pronounced. "To harm the charming Ensign Smith? How is that possible? Who would want to hurt such a delightful creature?"

"She's a weapons development expert," Foster said, his impatience growing. "Maybe they want to kidnap her. Get some secrets out of her, you know."

"We must not allow that to happen!" Chef cried, giving Foster a shove toward the door. "Get back out there!"

Foster halted, his hand poised to open the door. "Do me a favor, Chef. Contact Lieutenant Reed. Tell him one of the people who came over is missing."

* * *

Malcolm was chafing at being unable to do anything. Well, that wasn't true -- he was guarding Violet. But there was a potential assassin on board and he wasn't out leading the investigation.

He seriously doubted anyone could breach the department lock-down, but he mentally ticked off the defensible positions in the armory one more time on the off chance someone did manage it. There really wasn't much else he could do at the moment.

Violet had gone deathly quiet. She was still following him around as he paced the armory, but not so closely as to annoy him. Thank God for small favors, he thought. The last thing he needed was for her to knock him down -- accidentally, of course. Although, come to think of it, she hadn't done anything klutzy since she'd told him the Thiera business conglomerate sometimes hired The Bottom Line.

The beep of the intercom intruded on the tense silence of the armory. He quickly stepped over to the comm panel, thumbed the button, and said, "Reed here."

"Eh, Monsieur Reed," came Chef's mellifluous voice, and Malcolm rolled his eyes. Of all people, Chef was the last one he wanted to talk to right now.

"Chef, get off the comm," Malcolm said rudely.

"No! I have the important information concerning the Ensign Smith."

Malcolm's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Your man -- Foster -- he is in the mess hall. He wants me to tell you that one of the people you have him watching is not there."

"What!"

"That is what he said. One of them is missing."

"Bloody hell! Did he say where the person went?" Malcolm waited for an answer, but there was no response. "Chef?"

"Why doesn't he say anything?" Violet asked.

Malcolm thumbed another button on the comm. "Reed to the bridge...Reed to the bridge." He waited a few moments, and when he got no reply, he tried another button. "Reed to Engineering."

Slapping his hand against the bulkhead next to the comm panel, Malcolm turned to face her. "The comm's out."

"Couldn't that be a malfunction?" she asked.

"Not bloody likely. It's too coincidental."

"Wh--what do we do now?"

"We wait," he said grimly. "I have a feeling we're going to have company very soon."

* * *

Jon was stewing in his command chair as he waited for what T'Pol could dig up from the database on The Bottom Line and Captain Macklin. The "we have an engine malfunction" scenario was one of the oldest tricks in the book for luring in an unsuspecting victim. He should have ordered a background check be run on the ship before docking with it.

If Malcolm had been on the bridge, he would have suggested it, Jon realized with chagrin. Was he so used to having the tactical officer provide the voice of caution that he himself had gotten out of the habit of questioning the motives of others? As it was, he was glad Malcolm was in the armory with Violet. If there really was someone on board who wanted to kill her, he was her best protection. But it was still a damnably awkward situation.

Until they knew for sure, it was best to play this quietly. Getting up from his chair, he walked over to the communications console.

"Hoshi, contact Trip," he said. "See how the repairs are going."

She worked a few controls on her panel and looked up at him in alarm. "The inter-ship comm's not working."

"What wrong with it?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I can't get through to The Bottom Line," she said as she continued to push buttons and check readouts on her panel. "And the internal comm isdown, too."

T'Pol, overhearing their exchange, hurriedly called up some information on the ship's systems. "The entire comm system has been disabled."

Jon stared at her for a moment, then spun on his heel to address a crewman working at one of the auxiliary panels. "Singer, get down to the mess hall and tell the security people there to detain everyone from The Bottom Line."

The man nodded and hurried to the turbolift.

"T'Pol," Jon said, "have you found anything?"

"There is no record of a Captain Macklin," she responded immediately. "He could be using an alias. The Bottom Line is a contract-for-hire ship, but the company which owns it lists no Captain Macklin as a pilot."

Jon quickly reviewed the situation: A potential assassin was loose on his ship. Malcolm was locked in the armory with the target of the assassin. Security hopefully would keep the passengers from The Bottom Line from causing trouble. Trip was on the other ship but they couldn't contact him.

The biggest problem was the comm system being out. He had no way of knowing what was happening off the bridge.

Violet was safe where she was for the moment, Jon reasoned. But perhaps if the assassin's means to escape was unavailable, it might encourage him not to carry out whatever his plan was.

He headed for the turbolift, issuing orders as he went. "Hoshi, try to get the comm system back up. T'Pol, you're with me."

As T'Pol stood and went to join him, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"To make sure The Bottom Line can't leave," he answered.

* * *

A muted beep issued from the door control panel inside the armory next to the main entrance.

"What was that?" Violet asked, her gaze riveted on the door.

"Someone's trying to override the security protocols," Malcolm answered, motioning for her to move behind him.

She swallowed nervously. "Um. Do you think I could have a pistol?" At the incredulous look he threw over his shoulder at her, she added defensively, "Hey! It's my life that's in danger here."

"Point taken," he conceded. "Just don't shoot me again."

But before he could accede to her request, a faint scraping noise came from the other side of the armory.

"What's that?" Violet asked, spinning around and trying to locate the source of the noise.

Malcolm's gaze was darting around as he, too, tried to find where the sound came from. "The door was just a ploy to distract us," he said, holding his phase pistol in the ready position before him. "Someone's in an access crawlspace behind a bulkhead."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, everybody. Much appreciated. We're getting near the end of this tale, and the light at the end of the tunnel is not a train driven by Violet.

CHAPTER 15

There were two ways into the armory, other than the main door. Normally Malcolm wouldn't be concerned that an intruder could get in either of those ways, but whoever was stalking Violet had apparently done their homework.

The average, run-of-the-mill intruder wouldn't know about the other two routes into the armory. The easier way was through the ventilation system, but the scraping sound he and Violet were hearing was coming from one of the torpedo launch tubes. The stalker had gotten into the access crawlway a deck above and wiggled his way down. A maintenance hatch would let the intruder into the tube itself.

It was a daring move, not to mention dangerous. Somehow, though, Malcolm didn't think the captain would approve of launching a torpedo simply to dislodge the intruder.

"Get in my office," he told Violet as he listened to the noise. Now it sounded like the launch tube maintenance hatch was being jimmied.

Violet hesitated. "But--"

"Move!" he yelled, giving her a none-too-gentle push to get her going.

Violet had taken only a few steps when, to Malcolm's surprise, the main door crashed open. He whirled to face this new threat, only to duck as a flash of phased energy lanced over his head. Behind him, he heard Violet hit the deck as well.

The noise in the launch tube had been the diversion. The main door had been the objective after all, he realized as he cursed himself for letting himself and Violet be pinned down.

* * *

Jon and T'Pol arrived at the docking hatch to find one of Malcolm's security officers standing by. Glancing at the closed door of The Bottom Line, then back at the security officer, Jon asked, "What are you doing here?" 

"I was in the mess hall with Ensign Foster keeping an eye on the people from this ship, per Lieutenant Reed's orders," he answered. "When one of them left, I followed."

"Did the man go anywhere else before coming here?"

"No, sir."

Jon paused to consider his options. "I think we've got the problem contained," he said. "One of them is here, and the other four are in the mess hall."

"Begging your pardon, sir," the security officer said. "There were only four in the mess hall, counting this one."

"Damnation!" Jon muttered, casting an anxious glance at the door. Turning to T'Pol, he said, "It's still a good idea to make sure whoever is running around loose can't use this ship as a way to escape."

T'Pol tilted her head in agreement but said, "Commander Tucker, however, is still in there. He could be used as a hostage."

Jon's features hardened. "In that case, we won't knock first."

* * *

The remote 'bot he'd set off had operated perfectly. It had worked its way into the access crawlway nearest the torpedo launch tubes and had made enough noise to distract those in the armory from his entrance through the main door. The satisfaction of this accomplishment was outweighed, however, by his irritation at missing with his first shot. 

The Starfleet officer had good reflexes. And if he had more time, he'd enjoy toying with him. But his objective was not the officer. It was past the man, hunched down behind one of the torpedo launch racks.

He had his quarry trapped, but he wasn't able to advance and make the kill. He, too, was limited to what he could do by the fact that the Starfleet officer had rolled to one side, sliding under a console for cover, and was returning fire.

The assassin considered. He could use an explosive grenade, but that would likely take out half this deck if it detonated any of the torpedoes. Besides, he had every intention of making it out of this alive so he could collect his fee. Accidentally blowing himself up with a torpedo was not an option.

Once he disposed of his target and her guardian, he'd have to make it safely back to the docking port. If for some reason he couldn't get back to The Bottom Line, he could always steal one of the smaller vehicles carried by this ship. He knew there were two shuttlepods in its launch bay.

But first, time to bring this confrontation to an end. The longer it took, the more chance there was he could be captured, which ranked right after blowing himself up on his list of things not to do. He reached into the pocket of his gray jumpsuit for a stun grenade. It should knock both of them out, and then he'd just have to finish her off.

* * *

The three passengers in the mess hall were not happy. Foster, after receiving the captain's orders through the runner from the bridge, had unholstered his phase pistol and pointed it at the group, much to their consternation. 

One of the men had demanded they be allowed to go back to The Bottom Line. Another had started shouting something about his rights being trampled. The third had begun edging toward the door. Foster was wondering if he was actually going to have to stun one of them to get them to behave when Chef, brandishing a meat cleaver in one hand and a frying pan in the other, burst through the doors from the galley.

"Shut up and sit down!" Chef ordered the men, advancing on the trio and waving the kitchen utensils in a threatening manner.

Foster was a fairly tall man, but Chef topped him by a good six centimeters. He wasn't surprised when the three men hastily resumed their seats. He knew if he was faced with such an onslaught, he'd do exactly as Chef commanded, too.

"There!" Chef said in satisfaction, gesturing toward the group with the cleaver. "They will do as you say now."

"Thanks, Chef," Foster said, hoping word never got back to his superior about Chef barging in on a security assignment and doing better at it than he had.

"Do not speak of it," the Frenchman said expansively. "Now I go to help protect Ensign Smith. Your boss, he needs my help."

* * *

"It's locked from the inside," T'Pol said after examining the access controls and unsuccessfully trying a series of commands to open the door to The Bottom Line. 

Holding his hand out to the security officer, Jon said, "Give me your pistol."

The man promptly unholstered his weapon and handed it over. Jon made an adjustment to the gun and pointed it at the control panel. "Stand back," he ordered, and T'Pol and the guard both stepped back a pace.

He depressed the trigger and began carefully cutting around the control panel with the beam of phased energy released by the pistol.

* * *

At the high-pitched whine that came through the door, Macklin's head turned in that direction but he kept his weapon aimed at Trip where he was sitting in a passenger seat. 

Trip identified the sound as a phase pistol set to a cutting beam. With a notion of talking Macklin into giving up, he said reasonably, "They're on to you. If I were you, I'd call it quits."

"Doesn't matter," Macklin said. "If I have to, I can leave. It will just mean I have to break your nice docking port."

"Hey!" Trip said, standing up in alarm at this announcement. "I don't wanna go along with you."

Macklin waved the pistol at Trip. "Sit down!"

Before Trip could comply, there was a loud popping noise from the door, and both men looked that way.

* * *

Malcolm couldn't move out from under the cover of the console, but neither could the other man move from behind the work table where he was crouched. They were stalemated for the moment. But Malcolm knew time was on his side, as he could wait out the other man. Reinforcements ought to be arriving soon. They'd made enough of a commotion that anyone in the vicinity should come running. 

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Violet was tucked in behind one of the torpedo launch racks. As long as she stayed where she was, she should be okay. The assassin couldn't get a clear shot at her.

He turned back toward his opponent. Beyond the work table where the man was hiding, Malcolm could see the open door of the armory. He caught a glimpse of gray fabric as the man put his arm up and threw something over the table in his direction. A spherical object arced through the air, landing just behind Malcolm.

Too late he realized he wasn't going to be able to wait until reinforcements arrived. He was twisting around with a half-formed idea of tossing whatever it was back when a flash of light blinded him, followed by the distinctive sound of a stun grenade. Just before he lost consciousness, he could have sworn he heard the sound of running feet coming from the corridor.

* * *

As soon as the control panel fell out of place, T'Pol reached into the exposed opening and ripped out several wires. Jon, poised with pistol still in hand, was ready when the door flew open. He leaped inside, hit the deck, and rolled to one side behind a row of seats. 

His entrance provoked no reaction from those inside, other than what sounded like an amused snort from somewhere at the rear of the passenger compartment.

Jon cautiously lifted his head to peer toward the back and was greeted to the sight of Trip leaning nonchalantly against the back bulkhead, a pistol dangling from his hand.

"'Bout time you got here," Trip remarked with a huge grin.

Clambering to his feet, Jon was able to see something he hadn't been able to from where he'd been behind the passenger seating. His relief at finding Trip unharmed was sorely tried by the engineer's cocky attitude. Gesturing toward the still form of Captain Macklin sprawled on the deck at Trip's feet, Jon said testily, "If I would have known you had taken care of things in here, I wouldn't have cut open the door."

Pushing away from the bulkhead, Trip fessed up. "Well, actually, you helped. All that noise you made breakin' in here distracted him, and I was able to get the drop on him."

Jon frowned. "Somehow, I can't see you taking him on in hand-to-hand combat, especially with two bum hands."

"Naw," Trip drawled. "I used this." He pulled an electrical probe out from under the splint on his broken finger. "I shocked him while you were trying to bust in. Then I hit him."

* * *

The door to the armory was open, which struck Chef as odd since Foster had said the department had been locked down, but his concern about Ensign Smith urged him to dash recklessly through the entrance. 

"Ensign Smith, where are you?" he called out as he stepped into the armory.

His gaze fell on the body of the tactical officer, and his lip curled in a sneer. He had been right to rush to the armory, as Lieutenant Reed had not been up to the task of protecting the delectable Ensign Smith.

And he apparently wasn't up to the task either, Chef realized with chagrin, as a man clad in a gray jumpsuit rose up from behind a work table. He had a very large pistol aimed at him. Chef had time only to wonder if Ensign Smith was unhurt before the man fired.

* * *

As the man in the outlandish white outfit fell to the deck, the assassin began to relax. What kind of ship were these people running? They'd sent a cook, complete with meat cleaver and frying pan, to assist in the armory. They were not going to believe this back at the assassins' guild. 

As it was, the frying pan had made a terrible clatter, bouncing and rolling over to the torpedo racks, and he cast a glance at the open doorway. He'd have to hurry.

Stepping carefully over the prone form of the man in white, then skirting the fallen Starfleet officer, the assassin edged over to the torpedo launch racks. She should have been rendered unconscious by the stun grenade. All he had to do was set his phase pistol to kill and this job would be almost over. He'd just have to make his get-away.

Glancing back once more at the open doorway as he switched the weapon's setting, he didn't see the hand that snaked out from under the torpedo rack and grabbed the frying pan from where it had finally come to rest against the rack.

He rounded the end of the rack and grinned. This was going to be so easy.

And then the frying pan hit him right in the Adam's apple.

* * *

Jon, T'Pol and Trip hurried into the armory to find a groggy Malcolm trying to rouse Chef. T'Pol immediately dropped to her knees and began checking Chef's condition. 

Glancing around but not seeing Violet, Jon asked, "Where is she? Is she OK?"

Malcolm nodded jerkily, closing his eyes at the pain in his head.

"Where is she?" Jon persisted.

Malcolm opened his eyes and stared blearily at him for a moment. Then he pointed toward the torpedo launch racks. Jon could make out someone standing behind them, and he hurried over.

Violet, a frying pan clutched in her hands, was standing over an unconscious man in a gray jumpsuit. A large welt was on the man's neck, and a big lump was on his forehead.

Jon heard unsteady footsteps approach and turned to see Malcolm, assisted by Trip, coming to join him.

"I wouldn't get too close if I were you, sir," the tactical officer said. "She's got a hell of a Frisbee throw with that frying pan, not to mention a wicked backhand."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this last chapter up. (Admit it -- I've spoiled you with my fast posts.) But it turned out to be longer than the other chapters, and I wanted to get it just right. :)

CHAPTER 16

Hoshi sat on the edge of her bed, trying not to go back to sleep, as she waited for Violet to finish dressing in the bathroom. Hopefully, this would be the last morning she'd be sleep-deprived -- her snoring roommate would be leaving today.

All things considered, Hoshi supposed she should be glad that her sleep was the only casualty during the past week. Once the would-be assassin and his accomplice, Captain Macklin, had been caught and locked in the brig, Violet's demeanor had changed. She was still bashful, but there was a new confidence about her, and she hadn't been the cause of a single klutzy accident.

Maybe Violet just needed a little confidence. Nothing like decisively preventing an attempt on your life to boost your self-esteem. But still, Hoshi thought, there was something about Violet she hadn't been able to put her finger on.

Shaking her head, Hoshi decided it wasn't worth the effort to think about. In a short time, Violet would be someone else's problem. She would be handed over to the care of the proper authorities when they reached Earth Spacedock, and she would be their responsibility until the trial.

Other authorities would be picking up the two men in the brig as well as The Bottom Line. Enterprise had had to take the luxurious passenger transport in tow with the grapplers. It was too big to fit in the launch bay.

The Bottom Line's three passengers -- they really were passengers who'd been booked on the transport to make it seem legitimate -- would also disembark and be able to go about their business.

Violet's cover had remained intact, although Hoshi thought that was nothing short of a miracle. The crew seemed to think the incident a week earlier had been an attempt to kidnap Ensign Smith for her alleged knowledge of weapons' development. Apparently one of Malcolm's staff had voiced such a speculation to Chef, who'd had then tried to come to Violet's rescue, only to have Violet wind up saving herself.

Hoshi rubbed her weary eyes and glanced at the chronometer. Malcolm should be along shortly. They'd have one last breakfast with Violet in the mess hall and by then they should be arriving at the spacedock. They'd see Violet off, and Hoshi would gratefully go back to her regular duties on the bridge.

* * *

Malcolm rang the chime to Hoshi's quarters. Enterprise would be at Earth in about an hour, and after breakfast he would escort Violet to the airlock where she'd be met by a planet-side security detail immediately upon their arrival in the spacedock.

Now that her inept tendencies seemed to have receded, Violet was a rather pleasant companion. In a reserved sort of way. If you didn't expect too much. OK, actually, she was rather boring, but at least she was quiet about it and hadn't hurt anyone in the last week.

But he couldn't honestly say he'd be sorry to see her go. Once she was gone, he'd have his office back. Every time he'd had to go in his office this past week, he'd found Violet and Hoshi in there with their noses in padds, reading some of those awful romance novels for which the linguist had a weakness.

The door to Hoshi's quarters slid open. Over her shoulder he could see Violet, dressed in civilian clothing, coming out of the bathroom. "Are you two ready?" he asked.

"I think so," Hoshi said, and glanced back at Violet who nodded and picked up her duffle bag.

Hoshi stepped out into the corridor and Violet followed. After a moment's hesitation, Malcolm took the bag from her, and breathed a silent sigh of relief that it hadn't been dropped on his foot in the process. Even though Violet hadn't caused any accidents recently, he wasn't about to relax his guard. There was still more than enough time for her to inflict significant damage before she disembarked.

The trio made their way to the mess hall where Malcolm was careful to put the duffle bag in an out-of-the-way corner. It wasn't hard to imagine someone like Trip or the captain -- Violet's two favorite targets after him -- stumbling over her bag and breaking a leg. Although, he thought whimsically, it would be a rather fitting end to this assignment. Just so long as nothing happened to him.

As if Malcolm's musings had conjured them up, the captain and the chief engineer stepped through the mess hall doorway and got in the serving line behind his group. Pleasantries were exchanged, but after Hoshi and Violet moved off toward a table, Jon asked Malcolm in a quietly urgent tone, "Is 'Ensign Smith' ready to leave?"

"Yes, sir," Malcolm said.

Jon reached into his pocket and pulled out a padd. "Here," he said. "It's the notes she made before the attack."

"You want me to give this back to her, sir?" he asked, reaching for the padd.

"Yes. You give it to her. Or better yet, give it to her new keepers. Anyway, I have no intention of getting close to her while there's hot coffee around," Jon said, glancing down at the cup he was holding.

"Understood, sir," Malcolm said, keeping the grin off his face until the captain walked off toward his private dining area. Turning toward Trip, he asked, "You joining us?"

"Yeah. Can you help me with this?" Trip asked, waggling his splinted finger by way of explanation. "I still can't carry a plate and a cup at the same time."

Malcolm adjusted his grip on his own plate and then picked up Trip's, and together they walked over to join Hoshi and Violet where they were sitting. Violet still got that puppy dog look whenever Trip was around, Malcolm noted as they approached. He also noticed that Trip took the seat across from Violet, perhaps to avoid any last-minute lateral incursions that could damage any more of his body parts.

There was some inconsequential small talk at first as everyone began eating, but eventually the conversation turned to Violet's departure.

"Bet you're glad we're almost home," Trip said to Violet with a smile.

"Ye...yes," Violet stuttered. "No offense, b...but this is one trip I'd like to forget."

Across the table, Hoshi caught Malcolm's eye. Why was she frowning at him? It was almost like she was warning him of something.

"Well," Trip said with a gracious smile, "I'd say this has been one of our more memorable journeys."

Why was the man flirting with her? Violet was going to be gone in less than an hour. Or maybe that was the point -- now that Violet's departure was imminent, maybe Trip was feeling a bit more confident that he wouldn't be harmed again. Personally, he wasn't taking any chances until Violet was in the protective custody of other security personnel. He idly wondered if he should warn them about her -- for their own protection, of course.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Violet was saying with a shy smile for the handsome engineer.

"That's the way it was intended, darlin'," Trip responded with his typical charm.

Malcolm couldn't help it. He rolled his eyes but did manage to keep from snorting. As he took a bite of his toast, he glanced at Hoshi to see if she had gone into sugar shock from all the verbal sweetness and was surprised to see her shaking her head at him as if he were a dim-witted child.

And that's when Violet crossed her legs and one of her feet slammed against his knee. His good knee. The one opposite of the knee she had kicked a week or so ago in a similar situation.

And just like the first time Violet had kicked Malcolm in the knee, Trip was unaware of what had happened under the table. "You all right?" he asked as Malcolm choked on the toast he had in his mouth at the moment of impact.

Malcolm carefully swallowed. "I'll be better in about an hour," he said hoarsely, rubbing his injured knee. He switched his glare from Trip to Violet, who was staring back at him with wide, innocent eyes. A quick shift of his gaze to Hoshi showed him she was biting her bottom lip, trying not to laugh.

All the good will he'd been feeling toward Violet over the past week evaporated. The woman was still a menace. He'd be lucky if he wasn't a cripple by the time he got rid of her.

Malcolm was about to suggest they head for the airlock when Chef made a grand entrance from the galley. He had hoped they might avoid Chef before Violet's departure. The man had been embarrassed that he'd failed to assist Violet in her dilemma in the armory, but was taking what seemed to be an inordinate amount of pride in the fact that it had been his frying pan -- and not Malcolm -- that had felled her would-be assassin.

"_Mon cherie_!" Chef said when he reached the table. "I have heard that you are leaving us. I could not let you go without a token of my affection for you."

Revealing the hand he had kept behind his back, Chef presented Violet a small silver salver on which there was one tiny cake with white icing.

"A single, perfect petit four! Unique -- just like yourself!" he exclaimed, then lowered his voice. "No chocolate. It is lemon. We don't want to aggravate the allergy, eh?"

Malcolm caught himself before he could roll his eyes again. He pushed back from the table -- out of range, he hoped -- and announced, "It's time to be going."

"It's lovely, Chef," Violet said. "Thank you. But I think I'll save it for later." She quickly wrapped the tiny sweet in a napkin.

Chef beamed and grasped her free hand and bowed over it, although a warning growl from Malcolm stopped him from placing a kiss on it. In the meantime, Trip had gotten to his feet and stepped over to pull Violet's chair back for her. Unfortunately, Violet leaned back just as he put his fingers over the back of the chair, and she mashed both his splinted broken finger and his bandaged burned ones.

"Ow!" Trip said, his face scrunching up in pain until she leaned forward again.

The attention of everyone in the mess hall was on them by now. "Let's go," Malcolm said, gesturing for the group to get moving before anything else could happen.

Trip, trailed by a profusely apologizing Violet, led the way to the door. Malcolm retrieved the duffle bag from where he'd stashed it, and met Hoshi at the door. Out in the corridor, Trip and Violet were already halfway to the turbolift. As they began to follow the other pair, Malcolm asked Hoshi what was going on.

Hoshi gave him the same blank look he was used to seeing on Violet's face. "What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"What was so funny in there?" he demanded.

"Oh, I've just figured something out about Violet," she said, a grin appearing on her face.

"What's that?"

"I don't think most of her accidents were accidents at all," Hoshi said. "I think she's one of the best actresses I've ever met. That's what I was trying to warn you about in the mess hall."

They were catching up to Trip and Violet who were waiting at the turbolift, so he put out an arm to stop Hoshi. "Warn me about what?" he asked.

"Right before you rolled your eyes, I knew she was going to kick you again if you did that."

Malcolm stared at her a moment, then shook his head. "The woman's a klutz," he said, careful to keep his voice down. "She didn't kick me on purpose."

Hoshi shrugged. "Think what you like, but she's a calculating klutz. You didn't see the look on her face each time after she kicked you."

With that, Hoshi resumed walking toward the turbolift and Malcolm had no choice but to follow.

Trip didn't join them in the turbolift, claiming he had to get to Engineering before they docked. As the rest of them boarded the 'lift, Malcolm pondered Hoshi's comments. There was no way anyone could pretend to be as clumsy as their passenger had been. For one thing, it took a lot more coordination and timing than he thought she possessed to pull off a consistent performance like that. No, Violet just had a natural ability to cause disasters large and small, he concluded.

It was a short walk from the turbolift to the airlock, and as they approached, Malcolm could see that the indicator signaling docking was underway was lit. Just a few more minutes and they could open the airlock door and send Violet on her way.

He felt the slightest of bumps through the deck plating as the docking process was completed. He'd have to remember to compliment Travis on a good job. Then he turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand as a light flashed on the control panel next to the airlock. They could open the door now.

On the infinitesimal chance there might be one last attempt on Violet's life, Malcolm had strapped on a phase pistol this morning. His hand rested on the weapon at his hip as he nodded to Hoshi to open the door. At the same time as Enterprise's door slid to the side, the door on the opposite side of the airlock opened.

Three people were standing there. Two were security personnel, which was what Malcolm had expected. But the third -- a slightly stocky, unremarkable man of middle height with hair brushed back from his forehead -- was a most unwelcome sight.

"Welcome back, Miss Bloom," Harris said. "Good to see you made it in one piece."

It was all Malcolm could do to keep his jaw from dropping. What was his former boss in covert operations doing here? As Violet moved to step past him toward the waiting group, Malcolm's hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

"Wait a minute!" he said. "You're supposed to be meeting someone from the prosecutor's office."

Next to him, Violet slowly straightened to her full height. Her gaze was steady on his and there was a confidence in her voice he'd never heard before. "I'll meet with them. But first, I have to be debriefed," she said without a trace of her stutter. A smile curved the corners of her lips. "Surely you're familiar with the procedures following a mission?"

Now Malcolm's jaw did drop. Violet was an agent? And she knew about his past with this particular intelligence organization? He glanced at Harris, who was smirking at him.

"Violet is one of my most valuable agents," Harris said. "She will testify, but her testimony will be presented in absentia. Don't want to ruin her career, do we? Her wonderful memory would go to waste if that happened."

Malcolm could readily see the potential of an agent such as Violet with her photographic memory. There would be no need for recording devices on a covert mission to obtain information, no physical devices in her possession if she were caught. Bloody brilliant!

But bloody embarrassing for him as well. He'd been protecting an agent who most likely could take care of herself just as well -- if not better -- than he could.

"You could have told us," he hissed at Harris.

"No," Harris said. "That would have made a difference in how you treated Miss Bloom. Your own belief that she was nothing more than an insecure secretary added to the illusion of what she appeared to be."

Malcolm didn't know what to say to that. The man -- damn him! -- was right.

Harris stepped through the airlock and took the duffle bag from Malcolm's unresisting hand. Harris offered his other arm to Violet and escorted her through the airlock to the other side. Just before they stepped through the doorway, Violet turned to look back at him and winked.

Malcolm continued to stare after them, his expression a mixture of outrage and disbelief, as Harris and a surprisingly graceful Violet disappeared around the curve of a corridor on the far side.

Hoshi pushed the button to close the door on Enterprise's side, then took Malcolm by the arm and turned him around, leading him away from the airlock.

"I take it you know that man," Hoshi said.

* * *

Late that night, Malcolm wandered into the mess hall in search of a cup of tea. More than half of the crew was already on shore leave, and he wasn't expecting anyone to be in the mess hall, which was fine with him. The surprise of finding out he'd been protecting an undercover agent for two weeks was finally beginning to subside, but other than the captain, T'Pol, Trip and Hoshi, there was no one he could talk to about it. He wasn't even sure he wanted to talk about it.

He entered the mess hall to find Hoshi seated at a table, a vista of Earth visible through the windows behind her. She glanced up and gave him a smile as he walked in, but went back to something she was doing with a padd. He got his tea and went to join her.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he sat down. "I thought you'd be off to see your family by now."

Not looking up, she said, "I will tomorrow. But I neglected the comm station on the bridge for so long with Violet here. The logs are in a terrible mess. I wanted to get them straightened out before I left."

Watching her work with the padd reminded him of something, and he reached into one of his pockets. "I forgot to give this to Harris," he said disgustedly, putting the padd the captain had given him that morning on the table. "It's the notes Violet made right before the attempt on her life."

Hoshi glanced at it. "Hey! That's one of my padds," she said, picking it up and turning it on.

"You probably shouldn't look at what's on there," Malcolm said. "It might be considered classified information, at least until the trial."

"I don't care," she shot back. "I was wondering where my copy of 'Life, Lust and Liechtenstein' went to."

She keyed in a few commands, gasped, read a bit, and giggled.

"I assume from your reaction that 'Life, Lust and Whatever' is still on the padd," he said dryly before taking a sip of his tea.

"No, it's not that," she said, entering another command on the padd and handing it back to him.

He took the padd and looked at the screen where an index of files was displayed. The first thing listed was the reading material of questionable taste. He skipped that and opened the second file, which was titled "Notes." Considering the surprises to which he'd already been subjected today, he wasn't startled when the information on the screen disappeared as he started to scroll down it.

"So much for making a copy of what she knew," he murmured, holding the padd so that Hoshi could see the blank screen.

"You erased it!" she said. "Most likely she encoded some sort of password. But that's not what I was laughing about. Look at the next file."

Malcolm went back to the index. There was only one more file, titled "Apologies." He put down his cup in order to devote his full attention to this new curiosity. He opened the file and began to read out loud.

_"To Lieutenant Reed, please believe me when I say I am truly sorry for all the things I did to you, but they were necessary to keep my cover intact. If you would, pass on my deepest apologies to Commander Tucker as well. In his case, the broken finger was truly an accident. Sincerely, Violet."_

As Hoshi began to laugh, he set the padd down on the table with more force than necessary. "I don't believe it. She did all those things on purpose?" Glaring at Hoshi, he added, "It's not that funny."

Hoshi visibly forced herself to stop laughing and said, "I tried to tell you that this morning. You know, she had a thing about Trip, so she probably didn't mean to break his finger. She specifically apologized for that. But..."

Malcolm waited as she went off in another gale of laughter. When she'd calmed down, he asked, "But what?"

"You realize what this means, don't you?" Hoshi said. "When she shot you in the armory -- it was deliberate."

Malcolm stared at her as she resumed laughing. Then from the direction of the galley came Chef's voice. "I heard that. It could not have happened to a more deserving person."

Malcolm hung his head for a moment before straightening and getting to his feet. "I'm never going to hear the end of this from Chef," he said.

"I heard that, too," came Chef's voice again. "And you are right -- I will never let you forget."

A dangerous gleam came into Malcolm's eyes. "Where's that frying pan? I'm going to use it -- a la Violent Violet -- on Chef."


End file.
